


Whitby

by WHATAFEELlNG



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Books, Cocaine, Coming of Age, Drugs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Friend, Fluff, Hate to Love, M/M, NOTHING happens when harry's 17, Personal Growth, Smut, Sobriety, UK beaches, louis is a writer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 61,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27078127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WHATAFEELlNG/pseuds/WHATAFEELlNG
Summary: Harry is a soon-to-be eighteen years old, he's struggling and he's trying his best to figure his life out. He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what is the right thing to do, he lives a life that someone else has built for him. Or at least he thinks so.Louis is a family friend, he's twenty-seven and he's not happy with his life, his past choices, his job. It has started to fit him a little too tightly. He doesn't have the guts to let it go and pursue his dreams, though. He's scared of failing.So is Harry.So what happens when these two lost souls meet? Will they find their way home or will they fail and fade away?[tw: drug abuse]
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Kudos: 22





	1. 17, 26

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first larry fanfic and I'm quite nervous haha
> 
> Anyway, I hope you'll like this fanfic and, if you want, feel free to leave comments cos they fill my heart with joy!
> 
> Happy reading!! 
> 
> Stay safe, wear a mask and stay inside!

We first met when I was seventeen, he was nine years older than me and he had a young, fresh face, curious eyes, and restless hands. My parents knew his parents, they had been classmates since pre-school, they wanted us to get along but he was "too old" and I was "too young", we had nothing in common but the burning need to get away from that embarrassing lunch, which was being dragged to filth by my mother.

She was a lovely lady, dark hair held in a neat bun, pearls on her ears and around her neck, slim fingers decorated by two rings: a promise ring and her wedding ring. She wore expensive clothes that made her feel young again, yet her stained skin and wrinkles gave away her real age. My father, on the other hand, was an ordinary man, plain and simple, he did not try to create the illusion of a different life that suited his expectations or his young desires, which once made his heart tremble in anticipation.

I introduced myself, timidly, quietly, I did not want to disturb him with my unpleasant presence. He looked at me, piercing eyes that seemed to carve a hole in my head. I had seen blue eyes before, I had seen a crystal-like gaze meet mine, however, no one had ever had a deep and scary halo covering their eyes. He had straight hair that framed his face like a helmet, mine was curly and all over the place, yet we shared the same shade of brown. He acted and dressed older than his real age, that characteristic threw me off and made me wonder how someone so feisty could also use such antiquate manners.

He paid no attention to me, he just stared and nodded in my way a couple of times, I had a feeling that we both felt out of place there. My house was rather large, we had a big dining room and everything was perfectly placed on top of various pieces of furniture. He ate, he chatted with my parents, and held his mother's hand, which made me conscious of the fact that I had barely interacted with my parents during the whole lunch. Was I being shy? Perhaps I was, he made me aware of my breathing, chewing, living.

Those seldom and mutual looks we gave each other were enough to make my hands shake, I felt inadequate and I did not know how I could surpass that taunting feeling of distress that pervaded me when I was around him. My only solution was to hate him, and I did. I thought he did the same, I could tell that the mood had shifted toward something darker. I was perfectly okay with that, I did not want to befriend him or act like he was important to me, because he was not.

My parents asked me to put the dishes into the dishwasher and his parents almost forced him to help me. He did not object, he just looked at the amount of work that was ahead of us and he tucked in his sleeves. For the first time I paid attention to the clothes he was wearing: a plain and ironed grey shirt, a pair of jeans, and black dress shoes; he dressed like my father, who was pushing in his late fifties.

I wanted to talk, I wanted to fill the silence between us but I did not know where to start, everything seemed pointless to me at that point, he was older and wiser than me, he had a job as a grant writer and I had nothing but my studies, I was still in high-school and he was on a completely different stadium of his life. Perhaps I envied how he approached life, or maybe I was just shocked by how emotionless he looked. I wanted to ask him questions, I wanted to get under his skin as much as he did to me.

Being around him made me feel powerless, angry, nervous, and bothered. It was not his behaviour, it was how he treated me. He barely talked to me, barely looked at me, and almost acted as if he was smarter, stronger, better. He probably was, but it was not his place to make me feel like I was inadequate. He was not even looking at me while handing me the dishes, he was just rinsing them and then passing them to me so that I could put everything into the dishwasher. He was not happy to be there, neither was I, and I did not blame him because we were forced to share a room even though we had nothing in common but that cheap china.

I sat on the couch next to my father and he took out a cigarette from a pocket, he lit it up and handed the lighter to my mother. Our living room smelt like smoke and expensive liquors, my father's passions were cigars, cigarettes, and alcohol- especially wine. We had a large couch, it was from my grandmother's house and it still held that faint presence of her old perfume; we had a Persian rug that my mother had found in a second-hand shop, a glass coffee table with wooden legs, and a cabinet filled with wines and whiskeys. A big, heavy crystal chandelier hovered over us and it made me feel extremely small. Our living room was the epitome of wealthiness.

"You have a rather large collection of books, Mr Styles."

"Oh thank you, Louis. It's not mine, though, the majority of those books are Harry's." My father's voice made me focus on my surroundings again. I did not realize that they had been talking for a few minutes.

"Is it? I assume you want to be an English major once you finish high-school." Louis' voice was almost sarcastic, I felt like he was making fun of me. "I was the same when I was his age, always busy with a book." He had a thick northern accent, from what my parents had told me Louis' family moved to the North after they graduated from university.

"I do not want to become an English major, I want to study law." I murmured, aware of what I was saying and how I was handling the whole situation.

"Why?"

No one had ever asked me that question, no one. I had always said that I wanted to become a lawyer and everyone almost cheered about it, they congratulated me on that and wished me good luck with my studies. Then, Louis had to speak and made me question my life plan, I was not happy with how my brain switched and plunged me into a deep, dark place filled with questions and doubts about my future.

I failed to answer him, I looked at my parents and begged them to fill the silence for me. I was embarrassing myself with my own hands, my lack of response almost seemed to please Louis. He smiled and took a sip from his glass of whiskey, he kept his eyes on me the whole time and I shrunk back, almost trying to hide in my father's side. He made me feel like a scared child, I did not know why or how he could do that, but one of his looks could make my blood boil with hanger.

They ended up leaving around 5 pm. Louis nodded in my direction and I did the same, our parents hugged and I shook hands with his father and hugged his mother. I went back inside, I wanted to be alone and spend a few hours in my room, reading and not thinking about how, with just one word, he made me question my existence. That " _why_ " was stuck in my head, I could not answer it and I was not pleased with how my brain reacted to the whole situation.

I was satisfied with my life plans, or at least I thought so. I wondered if Louis was happy about his own, I wondered if he ever felt like nothing fitted him. There was a grey halo around him and I did not know why he looked sad and emotionless at the same time, I did not understand him but at the same time I felt like we were the same person: rigid, robotic, fake. We acted as our parents, our friends, wanted us to act, we put on a mask and pretended to be someone that was far away from who we were.

Sometimes I felt like running away, I had nothing to lose anyway. I was a mediocre student with a mediocre life, I was nothing but a person who was struggling to find his place in a cold, empty world. I was going to grow up and become someone who worked to live and lived to work, I was not going to be as happy as my parents, I was not going to live my life fully, I was just going to fool myself into thinking that I was satisfied with what I had because, hey, nothing will ever be perfect.

Louis did the same thing, I could tell. He smiled when he was supposed to smile, he talked when he was supposed to talk and then nothing, his body seemed hollow and dry. He was a shell that contained someone I did not know nor wanted to know. I had a feeling that his true thoughts were as sick as mine, as depraved and shallow as mine. I only cared about myself and my well being, I assumed he did the same, perhaps he was even more selfish than me. I knew what was hidden behind his polite smiles and firm posture, I knew how his thoughts worked and I knew what happened when the doors were closed.

I did not see him until a month later, the occasion was a small party my parents threw in our garden. He looked the same - same style of clothes and same harsh eyes - I had thought about him during those long weeks, I had imagined seeing him again and going up to his face and confront him, make him feel as embarrassed as I had been during that lunch. However I knew better than that, I could not ruin my parents' joyful time.

We greeted each other with a nod, he looked at me from head to toe and started walking toward me. I observed how his shoes padded on the soft, green grass, how his short legs carried his torso, and how his neck was tense and stiff, just like his facial expression. We scanned each other, I had millions of thoughts crossing my mind and neither of them was nice, polite, or based on basic manners. I was angry for no reason, I just liked to hold grudges toward people.

"Harry." His voice was flat, no tone, no emotions. "It's nice seeing you again."

"You too." We were playing safe, we were being polite to each other just to keep up a facade. "I hope you're having a nice time."

"I am. I'm surprised Gemma isn't here."

I did not know he knew my sister. "She's in Paris." I curled my toes in my shoes, I felt a sudden pang of rage run through my body. "I'm going to get a glass of wine, do you want one too?"

"You're not supposed to drink wine." He did not answer my question. This time I knew he was making fun of me, I knew that he was mocking me for being young. "Fuck it, sure. I'd like one."

I headed to the kitchen and he followed me. Louis was shorter, way shorter than me yet his presence felt huge and heavy, I could not ignore him and he made sure I knew that he was there with me.

"Red or white?" I grabbed two glasses and opened the cabinet of cheap wines my dad had bought for our everyday meals.

"Red." Of course, I should have known. "How's school?"

Was he trying to make fun of me again? I did not know, yet I answered and played his game. "School's fine, I'm thinking about submitting a request for a scholarship to Manchester University, their law program is the best, or so I've heard."

"Are you still going to study law? You did not answer my question when I asked you why you wanted to become a lawyer." He grabbed his glass of wine and leaned against the marble counter, cornering me.

"It's none of your business." I took a sip from my glass, the wine tasted like dirt and I wondered why my father bought that brand. "I don't know you, I don't have to answer your questions about my life."

"I'm just trying to get to know you, I've known _about_ you since I was nine. I'm just curious." He put down his glass, rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, and looked at me. "You know, my parents always talked about you, I feel like I've been around you for years, Harry."

I was not sure why I felt the need to laugh, but I did. "My mum always talked about you, too." He smiled and took his glass once again. "Still, just because our parents are friends it doesn't mean that we have to follow their footsteps."

"Are you always such a bloody prick?"

I was not expecting that response, did I offend him? Perhaps I did even though it was not my intention. I felt betrayed by myself, I had read him wrong and I had a completely twisted vision of him in my head. Maybe he was not like me, maybe he was truly polite, kind, mature, dull. I had imagined him being just like me, a rotting soul that had nothing to lose, and that did not know their place in this world.

"Sorry. I wasn't trying to offend you." I apologized, not wanting to break the thin ice I was walking on.

"You didn't. I was just teasing you." He shrugged and finished his glass of wine. We stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, he looked at me from time to time and cleared his throat twice. "You have lots of books, you're only seventeen but you have as many books as I do."

"Most of them were a gift from my grandmother. She read to me whenever I was at her house, once she passed away I kept all the books she had." I was tiptoeing around him and he was doing the same, we were circling each other like wounded animals, trying to find our weakest points. "My mum said you were an English major."

"I was, now I'm a grant writer." He tilted his head to the left and smiled, his hair fell on his face and I put my glass down.

"Was it what you wanted to do? Or did you have other plans?"

"None of your business." I did not know if I was supposed to laugh or not, his voice was not carrying any hint of sarcasm and I shifted my weight from foot to foot. "You were supposed to laugh."

"You're not good at making jokes, I can't tell when you're sarcastic."

"My bad." Louis stepped away from the counter and glanced at the hall that connected the kitchen to the living room. "Do you think your parents will get mad if I go and sit down? It's really hot outside."

I nodded and put the glasses in the sink, I headed into the living room and gestured to one of the armchairs, however, he dismissed my suggestion and sat down on the couch. I stayed on my feet, I did not know what to do nor what to say, he was not looking at me and I did not feel like going back outside, join my parents and smile at their friends, portraying myself as a stable and successful teenager. Louis intrigued me, he was not letting me in and he was keeping me on my toes, let me drown in my questions and assumptions.

"I will be in my room if you need anything." I murmured.

"I don't know where your room is." He was not wrong. "Keep me company, yeah?"

I did.

Gemma was my sister, she was older than me and she lived in Liverpool, she had a job there and she had a boyfriend, too. She was different from me, she was the perfect child my parents deserved and I was proud of her achievements even though she always made sure to rub them in my face, she did not do that to offend me or make me feel like a failure, she only did that because she thought it was funny. It was not, but I did not dare to tell her that.

Gemma came back for her birthday. She brought her boyfriend, Eric, with her and she planned on staying for a few days. I was glad to have her back, I had missed having her around, she kept me company during the day and sometimes she made sure that I was okay, too. We discussed we bickered, we even shouted at each other a couple of times, but we always made sure to support one another.

I helped to carry her bags into her old room, she liked to keep it how it had always been: juvenile, fresh, _girly_. There were pictures of her and her friends, of her alone, of her boyfriend, of us and our parents; she had pillows on her bed, a soft cream-coloured duvet and a rug right beside the bed; a tiny desk was pushed on the opposite side of the bed, it faced the window and- if I closed my eyes- I could picture her doing her homework there.

Nothing had changed, nothing had been touched. She sat down on her bed and I carried the bags right beside the desk, she thanked me and I sat down on the chair, stretching my legs with a small groan. We did not talk, we did not sit in an uncomfortable silence either, we were just adjusting to having one another around again. I could tell that she was buzzing due to her planned birthday party, my parents had spent days planning it and Gemma was excited too, mostly because she was going to see her old friends there.

I left her alone, I knew she had to get ready and so did I. I spent the day in my room, I had nothing to do but read and think about what was going to happen that afternoon. I knew my parents had invited Louis and his family, his sister knew mine and they were extremely close for some reason unknown to me. I did not recollect memories involving my sister and Louis', however, I knew that it was my fault for not remembering, I was always locked in my room when I was younger.

Louis was going to come over and attend the party. It felt strange to me, I wondered if he was going to put me in the spotlight again. I thought nothing about him, he was just someone my parents knew and I was forced to be polite and welcoming, I did not care though, I did not care about him. He had made me feel extremely embarrassed with his incisive " _why_?", after thinking about it I had concluded that he had been disrespectful to me. I wanted to do the same, I wanted to be petty but I knew better than that.

I had spent time with him during my parents' small gathering in our garden. We had not talked about important things but I had felt on edge around him. I did not like feeling like that, uneasy and nauseous, so I decided that my physical pain was since I did not like him. He was rude, witty, loud, and annoying, I could not believe that he was a grant writer and that my parents loved him like a son. He was a selfish prick who thought that his life was better than mine, only because he had figured out what he wanted to do since he was just a teenager.

I got ready for the party, I dressed nicely only to impress my parents and my sister, I did not want to ruin her good mood with my lack of commitment. I headed downstairs once I heard cars pull into our driveway, I knew I was supposed to welcome our guests with my family, that way they would think that we were close and happy, a picture-perfect family. I did not want to be there, I did not want to smile at the guests and act like "Harry, the soon-to-be-lawyer".

Louis's family was the second to arrive. He wore the same clothes as before, however, this time they were blue and white, nothing had changed about him, he was still the same, plain man I had met a month before. He said nothing to me, I did the same. I was not hurt, I was just glad that he had decided to keep quiet and not bother me.

The party was not a party, it was just a bunch of people eating cheese and drinking wine in our garden. I was sitting next to the door, in that case, if I wanted to leave I could do it quietly, without disturbing anyone. Gemma was happy, she was smiling at everyone and she was having fun, I could tell by her loud laugh, her firm and steady hands, and shining eyes. She was truly enjoying being the star, I was happy for her too, I knew she deserved it after working hard to get where she was.

I wondered if I could ever be like her: free, proud, and satisfied. She had picked her job after two years of looking for it, she wanted to do what she liked and she did not take the first opportunity that came to her. I envied her, I could never do that. I had my life planned out, I was going to follow what had been decided for me and I was going to like it, I had no other options. I was not mad at myself for not fighting for what I wanted, I knew better than that. I only wished I could be who I wanted to be.

When Louis had asked me why I wanted to be a lawyer, I did not have an answer. In reality, I did not want to be one, I never did. The more I grew up, the more I realized that I liked Philosophy and Cinema, I wanted to write scripts for short movies and study how the human race thought, why we were shaped like that. My parents did not know about that, however, they suggested I looked into law and I did that, I did not want to disappoint them. My dad wanted me to have a steady job, a good one, something that would allow me to be happy with my fake, perfect life.

I despised law, I despised my family and their need to be immaculate, I did not want to be like that, I wanted to be me but I knew that I could not do that. Who I was, who I truly was, could not be accepted by who surrounded me, the fear of disappointing them was petrifying and it made me keep acting like I was supposed to. I wanted to pursue a creative career, but I knew that it would not pay the bills, I wanted to be who I was supposed to be, and to do that I needed to suppress my true feelings.

I was not happy with myself, I was not happy about the fact that I needed to hide behind a tight mask that made my skin itch. My true ideas were different from my parents', I wanted to be someone in the cinema world, I wanted to study movie-making and have a life that I was proud of. I did not want to pretend to enjoy my existence, I wanted to live fully and experience who I was, I did not want to hide behind the image that I had created to keep the appearances up. I knew that if I kept it up it would end up killing me.

"You'll burn a hole into the table if you keep looking at it."

I had not realized that Louis had moved toward me. "Perhaps that's what I want to do."

"Are you not enjoying yourself? You know everyone here, you should be happy to see them." Louis grabbed a chair from the table and sat down, placing his small plate of cheese samples on his knee. "You should be with your sister."

"You should, too." He smiled and I took a sip from my glass of wine. "Why are you sitting here with me?"

"You were alone." He shrugged and leaned back into his chair, stretching his legs in front of him. "I assumed you wanted company." His voice did not hold any kind of sarcasm, I wondered if he was looking after me. "Your mum told me you're going to check out the dorms pretty soon."

"Yes, I am. I know it's too early to think about uni but I want to be ready." I lied, I could tell that he knew that. "This school year is going to fly, I can already tell. I can't be caught unprepared when the... big day arrives, I guess." I was creating excuses, I hoped he bought them and stopped asking me about my future. "How's work?"

"Good, why are you asking?" He raised an eyebrow and finished his samples of cheese.

"I could ask you the same." I finished my glass of wine and put it down, I had promised my father to only have half a glass.

"There's no need to be defensive, _lad._ "

"I'm not."

Louis stayed there with me for half an hour, we did not talk again and he just chilled there, sitting on a wooden chair while looking at the other guests having fun, laughing, and surrounding my sister. I wanted that party to be over and go back into my room, I wanted to sleep and rest, I could not believe that I had managed to not run away after two hours of repeating the same things to everyone. I had prepared a script about it, I had prepared a whole script for that night, I wanted to be ready and be as perfect as I could be.

The night arrives and Louis and Lottie were still there. My sister was chatting with Louis' and I was sitting on the armchair closer to the Venetian doors, a book was resting on my knee and my hands were perched on top of my stomach. I had wanted to read that damn book - _The Song of Achilles -_ for days and now, after going through few pages, I could not go on, I could not stop looking toward Louis and wondering why he was still there. He was not paying any attention to me, he was busy talking with my father while holding a glass of Bourbon, eyes fixed on his own hands, hair in his face, and lips slightly parted. I could not deny that my meticulous attention to all of his details, even the tiniest one like his short nails or the small and healed cut below his ear, was throwing me off.

I sat there until the pendulum in the living room gave its final signs of activity for the night, it was already midnight and my parents were still talking with Louis; Gemma had gone to bed after Lottie had left almost two hours before. I did not know why I was still in the room, my limbs were too tired to move and the warmth of the soft fabric under my body made me feel sleepy. I had put down my book after an hour of trying to read it, accepting my defeat and succumbing to the dull sense of boredom that pervaded every centimetre of my legs and arms. I tried to listen to the conversation Louis was having with my parents, but his voice was too hushed and his accent had seemed to thicken during the night.

I let go, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the soft laughs coming from across the room. I wondered if Louis was going to wake me up before leaving, I wondered if he felt like giving me a smile as a goodbye. Over the night, during the party, I felt an unwanted change creeping into my chest, Louis had his way with words and I knew that if he kept coming around, if he kept visiting us, I would warm up to him even against my will. I hated him because had made me question my future choices; he had seen right through my constructed mask, which had taken me years to build.

Louis made me feel helpless, vulnerable, naked. He had succeeded in making my core shake in fear and ask myself if I could ever let go of that unsettling sensation that made my insides churn and ache. Louis was smart, cultured, older, he had been alive longer than me and he had learned to read people, after all, he was a grant writer. He made me uncomfortable, he made me want to hide behind a cemented door, perhaps that way he would not be able to find me, open my head and go through my deepest, darkest secrets.

I fell asleep, no one woke me up to take me to my room. I spent the night on that armchair, lulled to sleep by the soft, barely audible, hum of the refrigerator.

When I woke up it took me a few minutes to untangle myself from the uncomfortable position I fell asleep in. I was still wearing my fancy clothes, the shirt was wrinkled and the first two buttons had popped free during the night. My feet were hurting and my legs were sore, nothing that a bath could not wash away. I got up, stretched my arms and legs, rolled the joints in my neck and wrists, yawned, and headed to the kitchen. I turned the light on and scratched my head, mussing up my hair just to give it a touch of care.

I made myself a cup of coffee and heated two of my mother's crumpets, I did not feel like having anything else and I could use some familiarity. I heard rustling from upstairs, my parents or sister were awake and I decided to heat a few more crumpets and serve two more cups of coffee. It was strange to be awake before everyone else, I was not used to being alone in the kitchen while everyone was at home.

"Morning," I said when I saw the light of the stairs turn off. Louis walked in the kitchen still wearing the clothes of the day before, hair neatly brushed and eyes more sunken than usual. "I thought you were my mum," I admitted, quietly hoping that he had not heard me greet him.

"Good morning to you, too." Louis sat down on a stool and eyed one of the mugs filled with coffee. He took one, did not bother to add cream, milk nor sugar, and took a sip. "Did you sleep on the armchair?"

I nodded, my mouth was filled with coffee and I did not want to talk to him. I took the crumpets from the oven and gave him various kinds of jam and honey, not knowing if he was hungry or not. He thanked me and started eating - he liked his crumpets with peach jam -, his movements were slow and I could see a faint stubble littering over his jaw and upper lip, his eyes were tired and the tip of his fingers was lightly dusted with a soft shade of pink. I wondered where he had slept that night.

"Did you read your book?" Louis asked, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between us. I shook my head, he smiled and looked at me, a pleased smile on his face almost as if he was mocking me. Again. "Why not? It's a gorgeous book."

"I wasn't in the mood." I lied.

He nodded and took a bite of his crumpet, eyes fixed on me, and my every damn move. "Are you still going to pursue a career as a lawyer?"

His question angered me once more, why was he so obsessed with my life choices? Did he find it pleasurable to torment me and my already fragile future? I wondered why he kept on bothering me, I wondered if he wanted to make me feel worse than usual just to have something entertaining to watch.

"What's wrong with that?" I asked I was not in the mood to play around and be a welcoming guest, he had no right to make me feel as if I needed to explain my choices to him. "Why do you keep asking me if I want to be a lawyer? Mind your damn business, Louis."

He shrugged and looked at me, for the first time I saw a spark of doubt and sadness in his gaze, it threw me off and made me feel bad for using a harsh tone with him. "Unhappiness doesn't look good on you, that's why I keep asking."

Winter break arrived sooner than I expected. School had absorbed me, my life literally evolved around it and, even if I hated to admit it, studying provided a nice excuse to stay away from my parents. I liked learning, I liked understanding new things and I liked being away from my doubts; books were still there, they helped too. I read more than before, I was halfway through my whole collection of novels and that felt nice, it felt refreshing.

I did not keep in contact with Louis, it did not bother me and I did not want to talk to him, we had nothing in common and he was living his life, away from me and my family. My father told me about his job, he was doing good and he had an abrupt success with his company, which meant that he had to work even more than before. I admired his dedication, I admired how he had picked a job that would allow him to live comfortably, without relying on his parents for help, whether it was financial or emotional.

I had heard that my mother was planning on spending Christmas Eve with Louis' family, she said that since they had moved back in our town, it would only seem right to invite them to our casual and private dinner. Her decision did not bother me, I had no hard feelings toward Louis, over the months I had learned to let go and not sulk over every little, minuscule detail that characterized our brief meetings.

What he had said to me was still lingering over my head. I had not expected him to give me a reason for his pointy and inappropriate questions, it had been a pleasant difference that made me wonder if he had always been nice to me, perhaps I had been the one who treated him poorly. He was a normal man, leading a normal life that prompted him to ask questions and not hold back, after thinking about it I had learned to respect him and his incisive personality.

My mother decided to cook our traditional Christmas Eve meal, she brought me to the local grocery store to buy whatever she needed and she demanded that I helped her pick gifts for Louis and his family. I had no clue about their tastes, about their passions, but apparently, my mother did and we ended up buying a scarf for Louis' mother, a cologne for his father, items of makeup for his sisters, and few books for him. I decided to wrap the presents myself, I had learned how to do it by watching Gemma do it every Christmas.

I put on my best clothes for that dinner, I knew that it was only a casual event but that did not mean that I was allowed to attend dressed in baggy trousers and t-shirts filled with holes. I helped my mother in the kitchen, I laid the table and made sure that everything in the house was spotless, clean, and decorated with something festive. My father brought out the best wine we had, he opened it and placed it in the centre of the table, telling me to put the champagne in the refrigerator and to check if the scotch glasses were clean.

Louis' family knocked on our door at 7 pm, they were not late and I appreciated it, I liked when people were punctual, it meant that you could rely on them if you were in trouble. I did not open the door, my mother did so that she could hug Louis' mother, kissing her on both cheeks before doing the same with everyone else but Louis. He walked through the door, hung his coat on the hanger, and brushed his hands over his perfectly ironed shirt.

I acknowledge his presence with a smile, nodding at him and receiving an expressionless stare in return. I was not offended by that, he was being himself and I was supposed to accept it, even though his boldness and insolence made me want to get angry. I could not afford that, I could not ruin a perfect dinner just because he was being a douchebag. I did not know him, I did not deserve to be treated nicely by him, I had to remember that we only shared a few and meaningless conversations.

We sat at the table, Louis was seated right in front of me. My mother was by my side and she served everyone a plateful of her roast and mashed potatoes, I was not a fan of her festive cuisine but I knew better than fuss over an overcooked chicken and buttery potatoes, eating that would not kill me or affect anything in my life. It was only a meaningless dinner, held to make Louis and his family feel welcome in our lives.

Gemma started to talk about her job, telling everyone about her plans for the future and her expectations; Lottie joined in, too. Then my mother spoke, telling everyone that I was going to try and apply for a scholarship at Manchester University. She was proud of me, she made sure to tell everyone about that, a happy smile on her face and her hand on my shoulder, rubbing it lovingly. Louis' eyes shifted from his plate, he stared at me and lifted a corner of his mouth in a disapproving and disappointed grin, which contorted his face into something that I could not describe.

"Law, I assume." His voice was cold, he almost spat those words at me.

"Yes, law." My mother patted my back and removed her hand.

"Of course." He muttered, shaking his head with a sigh.

"What's wrong with law?" I enquired, anger was rising inside me and I knew that I had to manage it, I could not cause a scene during our lovely dinner.

"You know what I think about it. I just can't see you being a lawyer."

"That's none of your concern, isn't it?" I was almost trying to get under his skin, I wanted to make him mad and be the one to start an argument, that way I would not end up being the one who ruined everything.

"No, it's not. You're not going to be a great lawyer if you don't like your job, you know that. You should just admit it to yourself and find something that you truly love." He shrugged and put down his fork.

"Louis." His mother murmured, glaring at him.

"You don't have to agree with my career choices, it doesn't involve you. It's about me, it's about my future." I said, voice slightly raised.

"Exactly. Are you happy about studying law? I'd say that you aren't, since you wince whenever someone mentions that you're going to study it." His eyes did not move, he kept looking at me and making me feel small, tiny, and defenceless. "Grow up and learn to stand up for yourself."

"Learn to mind your damn business, yeah? I'm not the one who should grow up, you're the one who's bothering me without a reason." I was fuming, I did not care anymore about that stupid dinner, about my mother's confused expression. "Grow up, Louis. No one cares about your opinion."

I was being rude and I knew it, but that was what he deserved. I was tired of playing nice, I was tired of being the perfect son of a perfect family, he made my blood boil in anger and disappointment. I could not stand his cocky attitude, I could not stand being in the same room as him, he did not deserve my polished behaviour. I knew that my mother was disappointed in me, I could tell from her tired sighs, but I did not care nor wanted to care, he was only trying to get under my skin to ruin me and make me feel miserable.

Dinner ended, I left the table as soon as I finished eating and I sat on the couch, grabbing a book I had not read yet. My moment of peace lasted for barely three minutes before Louis joined me in the living room, sitting on the armchair in front of me, I wondered if he was doing it on purpose, just to annoy me and make me react to him. I knew better than that, though, I knew that I could afford to make him win his dumb game. I stayed quiet, reading and shuffling through the pages without understanding a single word. I was too focused on his presence, on his eyes on me.

"What?" I spat, glaring at him. "Can't I read without having you look at me?"

"I just wanted to apologize."

"Shut it, I don't care about you." He knew that I did, I was aware of his pitiful expression. "You don't like my choices? Whatever. It's not up to you, I'm the one who's picking to be a lawyer."

"Is it, though? Are you the one who wants to study law?" He looked over at my library and shook his head. "I don't think so."

"What do you want, Louis?" I sighed and closed the book.

"I want the truth." He admitted, making me feel defeat and alone. He had been able to read me, to scrape my facade and reveal my emotions. "If you tell me, I'll stop being rude."

I looked at his hands, his fingers were neatly cut, shiny, and healthy. His hands were smaller than mine, his wrists too and I could see the nerves move with every tap of his index finger on his knee. Was I going to open up? Was I going to let him in completely, perhaps allowing him to turn my confession against me and ruin me? I wanted to trust him, I wanted to let go of my doubts and confess my thoughts, I thought that maybe I could digest the fact that he was similar to me, that he could read me easily.

"I'll tell you after you tell me something I want to know." Louis nodded, looking at me with hooded eyes. "Are you happy with what you have?"

"No. I'm not. I don't want to be a grant writer, I never did. I picked this career because it fell in my lap, it was easy and it was the only job I could take after majoring in English." He sighed and looked at him, shaking his head. "I never wanted to work for someone, I wanted to publish books, that was why I picked English. I love novels, I wanted to become a novelist and be an artist, but that didn't work out because I never tried."

I listened to him, I saw him become naked in front of my very own eyes, I did not understand why he chose me, why he talked to me and why he opened up, but I was happy about his decision. "Then why don't you quit?"

"I make decent amounts of money, I'm able to afford what I want, I don't have to live with my family and I don't have to deal with people's judgment." He stood up, looked at me, and signalled to follow him outside. "I don't want to see you make the same mistake as me."

We stepped outside on our back porch, he smiled at me and took out a cigarette, lighting it up and resting his back against a wall. I looked at him, I studied his pained expression and trembling hands, I could tell that he had not said that to anyone before, I could see it in his face. I realised that my assumption about him was right, we were the same and he knew it. He was older than me, but he had made the same mistakes in the past, I wondered if I was going to end up like him: sad, tired, and nervous.

"We're the same," I admitted, looking at the ground. "I don't know what I want to do, law seemed quite easy and that's why I picked it as a career. Studying is easy for me, I enjoy confrontation and I like talking to people, help those who are innocent."

"But do you want to be a lawyer?" Louis asked, taking a drag from his cigarette before looking at me.

"I don't know."

"Think about it, you still have time."

"Yeah, I know. Are you going to drop your job?"

"No, I'm not. Not now at least."

We stayed outside until he finished his cigarette, then he apologized again. I believed him, I could tell that he was sorry for lashing out at me, for putting me on the spot in front of my parents. I wanted to tell him that I was okay, that I did not have any grudges against him, but his parents called him back inside, telling him that they had to leave. They had their presents in their arms, still neatly wrapped, which meant that they had not opened them yet. Louis glanced at me, patted my shoulder, and headed inside, shutting the door and leaving me alone, cold and sad.

After talking to him, after hearing him come undone in front of my eyes, I felt the need to get closer to him, to get to know him, and let him guide me through life. He was nine years older than me, he had lived longer and he had made mistakes in the past, he had gone through a path that I was following blindly. I knew that by letting him in, by letting him help me, I was going to avoid a miserable and sad life, I just had to find the guts to call him, to make him see that I wanted to learn how to be happy and satisfied.

My feelings were shifting, I was starting to see him for what he was and I was sure that it would end either poorly or magnificently. He could be manipulating me, I was aware of that. He was older, he was wiser and he knew how to talk to people, however, I decided to trust my gut and assume that he chose me because he trusted me; deep down I knew that he was just being honest, it was not a manipulative tactic, it was just Louis being Louis. 


	2. 18, 27

When I turned eighteen, I decided to celebrate my birthday with my friends and my parents on two separate occasions. I had a small gathering with my school friends in my backyard on a chilly yet sunny Saturday's afternoon, we ate fried chicken, fried mozzarella, onion rings, tuna filled tomatoes and other delicious yet easy dishes my mother made. She bought the cake, she had not had the time to bake, but I did not mind, the cake was good and everyone seemed please by it.

My second birthday party happened during a chilly and freezing evening, my parents forced me to invite our whole family and Louis' parents were included. I did not want him there, I did not want to see him again, I was still feeling unsettled around him, he made me feel nervous and on edge, my stomach was closed and I could feel it turn on itself, almost trying to hurt me even more. I felt unsafe around Louis, there was not a good reason for me to fear him, but I did; I was scared of him.

Louis' mom bought me a book about Pop-Art and Warhol's life - my mom had told her that I was a fan - and his dad opted for Charles Bukowski's collection of short stories _,_ they played it safe and I was surprised by it, I was not expecting them to buy me something that I actually liked and needed. However, Louis' gift surpassed theirs: he gifted me a perfume, Tom Ford's Tobacco Vanille. I rarely used perfumes and colognes, it seemed too much, too formal and too grown up, but I always wanted that perfume, mostly because it was Tom Ford.

I admired him, he designed clothes but also a movie director and he was openly gay. He was not scared of being himself and I noticed that in his masterpieces, in his creations. He was passionate about fashion and filmmaking, there was not a gap between those two worlds and he fused them together; _A Single Man_ was based on a novel and he had managed to stay loyal to that, portraying the emotions felt by the main character a little too well, I found myself in Kenny Potter; _Nocturnal Animals_ was an aesthetically pleasing surprise, Gyllenhaal's performance was raw and crude, it left nothing out, it sucked you into the movie and you could not escape it.

I thanked Louis with a smile, he dismissed me quite rudely and stepped away from me, he approached Gemma and started to talk with her. I was alone, once again, alone with my tumultuous thoughts that made me shiver and shudder. My world was not pleasant, I tried to stay away from it since I always ended up hurt and scarred by it, my thoughts were not happy, they were haunting and anxiety-filled. I knew that it was my own fault, I did not take care of my mental health but I did not have the time, I could not do anything but suffer in silence, my family did not need me on their shoulders. I was eighteen after all.

More than once I pictured myself running away from that chaos, from an unhappy situation that I had built around myself, no one had ever forced me to do anything, I put myself on a path that angered me, I destroyed my own happiness.

We toasted with champagne and Louis smiled at me, he came closer to me, tipsy and giggly, while holding a piece of cake on a plate. He looked at me through his lashes and put the plate down on the table, he took a deep breath and popped his lips open, sniffing and rubbing his index under his nose. We looked at each other for a few minutes, I stayed quiet and he just looked at me with his eyes slightly squinted; was he judging me?

"How's school?" He asked abruptly. "Have you thought about changing major?" I shook my head, he scoffed. "God, you'll never change, huh?" He finished the rest of his champagne before placing the glass next to his plate. "You're not going to be a good lawyer, you can't force yourself into a life that you hate."

"You did the same." I said while stepping back. I was trapped.

"True. But I'm going to take a month for myself, maybe I'll go to Brighton for a little while, I need to decide what I'm going to do." Louis always talked to me, he liked to open up to people and allow them to look at him, study him like he was a shiny star, he liked to be admired. "I don't know when I'm going to take a month for myself, but I will."

I nodded. "Why did you give me that perfume?"

Louis straightened his back, he held my gaze and puffed out his chest a little, he looked older now, sadder. It was a mere imitation of a successful man who was talking to a kid, to someone hopeless and almost dumb; Louis always acted like a self-absorbed prick, he never failed to tell me that I was going to suck at my future job. Did he find pleasure in humiliating me? Did he like to put me down and crush me under his foot? Sometimes we acted like acquaintances, sometimes we acted like enemies, I was getting tired of it.

"It was on sale." He grabbed his empty glass and the bottle of champagne, he filled it up almost to the brim and walked away, leaving me alone next to his piece of cake.

I did not see Louis for another two months, we met again during Spring break on accident. I had thought about him, I had thought about our last encounter during those months, I kept on picturing him in my mind, his figure was starting to dissolve into my brain and I could only remember his harsh words and his upsetting smirk.

I had always thought that I was good at reading people, I was the best, but Louis was different. He showed you what he wanted and how he wanted, he toyed with you like a lion with his prey, he had made me think that he was gentle and caring, his rudeness was there just because he wanted to watch over me. It was not like that, he was an unappealing person because of his ego, which was bigger than mine and way worse. Louis fooled me into thinking that he had opened up to me, it was not like that at all. He had told me those facts about him because he was the one who wanted to crawl into me, into my brain, he did not trust me, he just wanted to study me.

It felt manipulative and I did not know if he was aware of it, I was. I was divided between thinking about him as a manipulative and controlling man or as someone so scared of being hurt that ended up building a facade taller and thicker than mine. I did not want him to be a bad person, I wanted him to be good, kind, I could not picture him as a nightcrawler that fed on helpless souls, on wandering bastards that did not know their places in life.

I met Louis during a typical Spring storm, I was waiting for the bus and he happened to drive by. He must have pitied me, I was drenched and alone next to a streetlamp that kept on flickering on and off, it was cold outside and I was wearing a sheer long sleeve shirt; the bus was also late, probably because of the rain. Louis was in his car - an anonymous black Mini Hatchback -, he stopped in front of me and rolled the window down, he stared at me without saying a word before nodding and opening the passenger's door.

"Thanks." I said while sitting down on the soft and warm seat; was it heated?

"Don't mention it. I'll drive you back to your place?" I nodded and he pulled back on the street. He liked to drive fast. "Are you cold?"

"Yes, a little." I sneezed after few seconds and he turned the heater on, pointing it toward me. "Why were you out?"

"I was at a pub." He shrugged and I looked at the time, it was only 6:30 pm. "I can feel your judgment, stop it." His voice was firm and it plastered me to the seat. "I was looking for some kind of inspiration, I'm stuck on a piece."

"Sorry to hear that." I shivered and sneezed twice more, Louis took a turn to the left. "Is it a difficult piece?" He shook his head and I shut up, he did not want to talk.

We reached my parent's house quite quickly, Louis stopped the car in front of the gates and I looked at him. I did not know what to say to him, I wanted to befriend him since our parents seemed to be closer and closer, however, I did not want to impose myself on him and make him hate me even more. I wondered if he wanted me as a friend or if he saw me as the "little child" of the families. I was the youngest there, no one ever took me seriously and I barely fitted in, too young to understand their big talks and too different to feel good around them.

"Do you wanna come in? My parents aren't home and... forget about it. Thanks for the ride." Louis tilted his head to the side and looked at me with a frown before glancing at the gates.

"Yeah, I'd like to come in." He said curtly, waiting for me to get out of the car and unlock the iron gate.

Louis turned off his car and walked the house with me, I took my shoes off and he did the same. My feet were freezing and I was still shivering, I needed to shower and put on clean clothes, I could not risk getting sick, not when I had to study and get ready for my last portion of high school; I excused myself after inviting Louis to serve himself whatever he wanted. He seemed out of place there, he kept on looking around himself with wide eyes and his lips parted, perhaps he was uncomfortable about the fact that my parents were not there.

When I walked in the living room, Louis was sitting on the couch with hands in his lap and his eyes fixed on my library. I sat down in front of him and sent a text to my mom, telling her that I was home and that Louis was there, too. It felt odd to write those words down, I had never imagined being alone with Louis, the thought had never crossed my mind before and I did not know how I was supposed to behave; I was not a good at that kind of interactions, especially with someone like Louis.

"Can I offer you a glass of water, or would you prefer a tea?" I asked to cut the heavy silence between us, it was starting to make me feel uncomfortable and I did not cope well with stress and anxiety.

"Tea's fine, thanks." He stood up and took two steps toward the section dedicated to novels. "Did you like the book my dad gifted you?"

"Yes, it was a very interesting book." I grabbed it from its shelf and I looked at the cover, caressing it softly. I had actually loved the book, it was very interesting. "I loved _The Most Beautiful Woman in Town_ , it's a deeply touching piece in my opinion. How he describes the LA bar culture is... stunning. He wrote about beauty, alcoholism, objectification and women of his time, it has opened my eyes quite a bit." I sat down and held the book tight in my hands, almost as if I was scared of Louis grabbing it and snatching it from my hands. "Cass is conventionally pretty, she hates it though, she doesn't see it as a perk and she chastises herself because of it, she hates the fact that men objectify her because of her beauty and she mutilates herself, she... makes her body ugly in order to keep men away." Louis nodded, he seemed interested in what I had to say. "Cass is an ambiguous person, she's kind and caring but she's also wild and incoherent. This- this wildness makes her hurt herself because she wants to break free from a role that men have forced her to play. She knows men like her for her body, not for her personality and this leads her to... to cut her throat."

Louis nodded again. "Yet we have the man, the main character, who's a slug. He's indifferent and a coward, he hides away from people, but not from Cass. He likes her, perhaps he truly likes her, not just her body, but we don't know that. He seems to care, when she dies he blames himself, doesn't he? He can't communicate with her, he doesn't know how because he's plain, boring. He has nothing to offer to her but his body, which she doesn't want - well, she thinks she does at first." He talked fast, I found it hard to follow him. "He's the ugliest man in town yet Cass likes him, she talks to him with kindness even though he's a man, even though he wants her for her looks. At first at least, then he realizes that there's more to her than her pretty face." Louis shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at me. "Cass closed herself off from the world because she wanted to be noticed and heard. Funny, isn't it?"

What was he alluding to? I did not know about Louis' passion for literature, he had a degree in English but that did not mean that he was good at it or passionate about it. It felt foreign to me, I could never talk to people about my passion and I could never have a debate with someone about a certain book or poem. Louis had surprised me with his words, most importantly he had surprised me with his _choice_ of words. He was talking about something - or someone - in particular; was he referring to me, to himself, to us?

"It's bittersweet." I managed to say after a few seconds of silence. "If only she found the courage to speak up and say to those men that she was not just a piece of meat... perhaps things could have been different."

Louis nodded and stared at me with a smile on his face. "Words are powerful, Harry. There's nothing more unique than a sentence, there's nothing better than dialogue. Speaking is underrated, we prefer to hide in our caves and pretend that we're alone, however, if we dare to stick our necks out once in a while, we'll see that we're not _that_ alone." He held my eyes and he stared back, I felt small and lost once again. "So, where's my tea?"

I sighed and stood up from the couch. "How do you take it?"

"Earl Grey, a splash of milk, half a teaspoon of sugar." Louis seemed uninterested and he was focusing on my books again. "Thanks."

I headed into the kitchen and looked at Louis, he was still looking at my books and I decided to take care of the tea. I put the kettle on and prepared two mugs, I did everything in autopilot since my mind was still fixated on Louis' words: was he talking about me? I did not know, I did not know what he wanted from me and why he felt the need to put me under the spotlight like that, it was not fair.

He was making me doubt myself with his words, he was probably manipulating me by pretending to care about me and my future. He had no rights, he should have kept his mouth shut and minded his business, he could not use his knowledge and his charm to pilot me into a box, another damn box, that labelled me as an immature kid who tried too hard to please his parents and fit into the stereotype he had created for himself. I was not like that; I wanted to be a lawyer, even if it was not my passion nor my ideal career, it was the right thing to do.

The kettle whistled and I poured the water into the two mugs, I fixed Louis' tea how he liked it and brought the cups back into the living room. I offered Louis his tea, he thanked me with a nod and stepped toward the poetry section of my library. He had put the book from before back in its place and he was now looking at a copy of _Le Livre Blanc_ by Jean Cocteau, he seemed confused yet pleased by the presence of that book in my life.

"Why did you put it in the poetry section?" He asked while sipping his tea, lips pursed together and eyes still tied to the book. "It's a short story, it doesn't belong here."

"It does, though. There is a collection of unedited and never published before poems." I took the book from the shelf and opened it to page 65. "See?"

Louis looked at it and took the book from me. "You have a lot of homosexual narrative and poetry."

I scoffed. "Homophobic much?" He raised an eyebrow and stared at me. "Only homophobic people refer to gay men as "homosexuals". And, by the way, it's literature, I just like to read."

" _Mais je n'accepte pas qu'on me tolère. Cela blesse mon amour de l'amour et de la liberté_." Louis cleared his throat and sighed, shaking his head and putting the book back in the library. "I'm not willing just to be tolerated. That wounds my love of love and of liberty." He repeated, this time in English. "It's the closing line of the book, isn't it? I read it when I was younger than you, perhaps it was premature but I liked it. It wasn't an easy book to read." He took another sip of tea and sat down on an armchair, running his hand over the leather of the armrest. "This is a conversation for another time."

I mimicked him and sat down in front of him, I had nothing to say to Louis, we had nothing to chat about since we were not similar, we had nothing in common and that was finally dawning on me. "Thanks for the ride." I murmured, I was gripping the mug a little too tightly.

"No need to thank me, you were freezing out there and the bus was late. It's common decency, Harry." He blew on his tea to cool it down a little and he smiled at me, I almost felt relieved when he did that. "How's school?"

"It's going alright." He raised an eyebrow and stared at me, waiting for me to say something else. "I'm doing okay, it's just school. I'm about to graduate and this is stressing me out a little, but I'm doing fine, my grades are the same and I'm trying my best to keep them up since I want to go to Manchester University."

"Manchester?" Louis looked at me and hummed quietly. "That's quite far from here."

"Just an hour and a half by train, it's not that far." I finished my tea and placed the empty cup on the coffee table. "How's work?"

"It's work, it's still there and I'm still getting paid." He looked at his hands and then at me, he stared at me and he leaned forward a little. "I'm thinking about taking a month off, I need to take some time for myself."

"I hope it goes well, send a postcard or something, mom will love it." Louis nodded and he yawned quietly, rubbing his face with his left hand. "Well, it's getting late, you probably have to go."

We said goodbye to each other and Louis patted my shoulder once, smiling at me and handing me his now empty cup; I walked him to his car, it was cold and the thick sweatpants I had on was not enough. Louis smiled at me once more, he opened the door of his car and stared at me, he did not get in, he did not talk, he just looked at me with a smile on his face and his lips slightly parted. I felt overpowered.

I looked at Louis for the first time in months, I stared at him - I truly looked at him - and the realization that Louis was beautiful overwhelmed me. He was attractive, he was very pretty and even if I despised his behaviour, I could not deny the fact that he was stunning, his looks were unique in my opinion. He dressed like an old man, he kept his hair a little long on the front - it suited him, however, what I liked most about him were his lips, which were thin and framed by a short and bristly beard.

"I'll see you around." Louis got into the car without closing the door. "By the way, your collection of gay literature isn't as broad as mine. I'll send you some books next week, tell me what you think about them once you finish them."

Without saying another word, Louis drove away. I stayed outside until my feet started to freeze, I was too confused by what Louis had said to me, I did not know what to think about him. Louis almost seemed an old soul, I was still wary about him and I did not trust him, not after feeling manipulated and toyed with by him. I could not lie, though, I wanted to give Louis a chance after the day we spent together.

He had managed to get under my skin with his words and with his analysis, he had talked to me and held a conversation with me, he had heard my point of view without overpowering me just because I was younger than him. His behaviour confused me, he treated me differently every time we met and it was frustrating, I needed to know what he wanted from me, I needed to understand what we could truly achieve. Did he want to be my friend? Did he want to just be in my life because his parents knew mine?

I did not hear from Louis until the end of May, a box arrived at my house while I was at school and my mother had the decency to leave it untouched on top of my bed. She seemed as surprised as me when she told me that Louis was the sender, I was even more surprised than her when I opened it and found books, gay books. _Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, They Both Die at the End, Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, All Boys Aren't Blue, Giovanni's Room, Call Me By Your Name, Maurice_ and _The Tradition,_ these were the titles Louis included in the box. At the bottom there was a yellowish envelope, it looked like a letter and I gingerly took it in my hands.

I wanted to read it but I did have the time, I had to study for an hour before being able to relax and put away those books. I put the letter on my nightstand and I looked at it, I wondered why Louis sent me a letter, he could have easily asked Gemma for my number, however, I appreciated it, I had never received a letter before. I was curious and I wanted to read what he had to say to me, but I could not drop my studies just for him.

I managed to read Louis' letter after an hour and a half, I had finished my studies and I had put away the books Louis had gifted me, leaving _Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe_ on my nightstand; I was going to read it that night. I opened Louis' letter with my nails, the paper seemed quite pricy and the consistency was firm, solid and smooth, it was expensive paper and I wondered why Louis had decided to waste it on me. I looked at the letter, it was composed of just one sheet of paper, filled by tiny and messy calligraphy.

_Harry,_

_As you've noticed, I sent you a collection of gay literature that I think you might like. I'm sorry to inform you that I've moved to Whitby, I'm going to stay here for a month or two, I don't know yet. I needed to take a break from work and my parents. I know it's almost a three hours drive from Holmes Chapel but, if you want, you can come and stay with me for a week or two. I'd like the company and I know you're done with school, it could be your vacation before starting Uni._

_By the way, your mother has told me that you haven't applied at Manchester University yet, have you finally realized that law is not your cup of tea? I hope so. But you're stubborn._

_Anyway, I'd like you to come here and stay with me for a few days, it'd do you good and your father thinks so, too. Whitby doesn't have a lot to offer but the beach is not that bad, and the place I'm renting is pretty close to the sea. It's stunning in the morning, I promise you._

_I also wrote this letter because I wanted to dedicate some of my time to you, just you, writing a letter takes time and it's more effective than a text, in my opinion. I sent you this letter and those books because they talked to me and they made me realize what I wanted from life, maybe the same will happen to you. I wish you the best. You should start from Sáenz' work, it's a YA and it talks about a lonely and empty boy, Aristotle, who finds love in another boy, Dante, who's not so different from him even if they live on two different planets._

_Tell me what you think about it once you finish it._

_About Whitby, please let me know what you want to do, my house is open and it's waiting for you. I'm sure you'd have fun here, it's a calm place and it might help you figure out what you want to do with your future. I'll leave you my number, just in case you want to contact me and tell me what you want to do with Whitby and my offer._

_Love,_

_Louis._

I put the letter down and glanced at the book on my nightstand. It was not too big, it was barely three-hundred pages, I could easily read it in a day or two - perhaps two nights if I put myself into that mindset. The book seemed intriguing, I did not like young adults that much but I tried to approach them without prejudice in my mind, I wanted to be a reader and not a judge - I was there to read and have a good time. I tried to trust other people's judgment as well, Louis seemed to know what he was talking about and that was more than enough for me.

The book was used, Louis liked to highlight his favourite parts or sentences that stuck with him. I read the book in the span of a night, it flowed nicely and I got caught up in the story way too quickly. I did not who resonated more with me; was it Dante? Was it Ari? I was not sure, I just knew that I ended the book and I cried. By reading those pages I suddenly felt closer to Louis, perhaps I was trying to look for the meaning behind those highlighted paragraphs.

I had been fifteen, then sixteen and then seventeen. I remembered the struggles of putting up with a role I found myself into, a role that had been pushed onto me just because. Was I like Ari, did I have skeletons and ghosts in my house that pressured me into a closet, that made me angry and sad because I did not know how I was supposed to come to terms with who I truly was? Or was I like Dante, an open book who tried his best to stay afloat and not drown, who hid behind fake confidence and an unfiltered mouth?

I wanted to call Louis as soon as I finished the book, however, it was only 3 am, he was probably asleep and I had to go to bed since I had school the following day. I slept for four hours, I was barely awake at school but I powered through that, I wanted to get back home and contact Louis; I had so many questions I needed to ask him, I deserved answers. I was wondering if he was actually letting me in or if he was just toying with me again. I did not want to be manipulated, I did not want to be a pawn in his master game.

When I got home my mother was already in the kitchen, she was making tea and I asked her to serve me a cup, too. She asked me if I got Louis' letter and if I wanted to go to Whitby for a few weeks; she trusted Louis and she said that it'd be good for me. I was doubtful at first but then my mother managed to convince me, mostly because she kept on saying that a small break from school and college would do me good. I was stressed out, I had to admit that, so I decided to give that new experience a shot.

I did not call Louis nor did I text him, I decided to write him a letter that night. I had never written nor sent a letter, but I wanted to try and give him some of my time, just like he did.

_Hello Louis,_

_Thanks for the books. And for the letter. I never received a letter before. First thing first, my mom basically forced me to come to Whitby, she said it'd be good for me and I think she's right. So I'll come there once school ends, we can discuss those details via text._

_Then, I want to thank you for those books. I read the one you recommended to me, it was very interesting. Are you still feeling sorry for yourself? I don't think self-pity is a form of art. I don't think you're invisible, I don't think people need you but don't see you. I try to see you, but you don't let me do that, you hide from me and I feel like shit when you treat me like a child, you hurt me when you talk to me like I'm your little brother._

_You're older, too, and that's scary. You're wiser than me, perhaps I get hurt when you tell me to change my major because I don't want you to be right, I'm scared of you being right about this._

_I feel like my parents are still controlling me, too. I want to start writing my own life but I'm petrified, I don't want my life to be someone's else idea, I'm tired of that. I'm just so tired, Louis. I want to be happy and I want to be myself. How can you be yourself? Was it hard, did you manage to get out that loop? I want to drop this fucking facade I have. I'm not like this, I'm better than this._

_I want to be as brave as Dante, Lou._

_Harry_

I sent Louis my letter on Saturday, I sent him a text once I got back home where I told him that I was going to finish school in July, which meant that I could visit him during August. He texted me back after two hours, he told me he was pleased to hear that I wanted to visit him and he was even happier to hear that he could spend four months, instead of two, in Whitby. We did not text much, we just decided a date and a time, some activities and if Louis was going to pick me up from home; he was, he told me it was his duty and that it was impossible to reach Whitby by train.

I was happy to go to Whitby, I had never been there but my mom had visited it with my dad when they were younger. She still had pictures and she showed them to me after dinner: the Whalebone Arch, the beach full of colourful cabins, Quayside - the best fish and chips place in the country, St. Mary's Church step and the Whitby Abbey; she visited all of those places with my father. She told me that the city was not that big but it was loved by tourists, Yorkshire's coast was bright and it brought joy into hardworking families.

I did not hear from Louis until Friday, he sent me another letter and I felt happy when I saw it, I held it tight to my chest and hid it from my parents, I did not want them to get nosy and ask me why I kept on receiving letters from Louis. I liked the letters, I only got two but I liked them, they made me feel almost special and it showed me that Louis liked to spend time on me - for some reason he liked to do that. I still did not trust him completely, but we were getting to know each other properly.

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm glad you liked the book. Truth be told, I wasn't expecting you to write me back. You're younger and I thought you'd think I was dumb because of my letters. I wouldn't blame you. Letters aren't easy to write, sometimes I feel like I vomit my thoughts onto paper, I'm sorry if that's the impression you got from me. I don't want to bother you for too long, you're a pretty busy guy, Mr._

_Regarding the book and your questions, I don't feel sorry for myself anymore, I'm okay now I guess, I just live my life and try my best to keep ongoing. I don't want to cry over myself anymore, I'm tired of that, too. I get why you say you're tired, I'm tired too, of everything. These months away from my family and my work will do me good, they'll help me figure out what I'm going to do in the future._

_I think you are like Dante, or maybe you'll be like him soon. I was like Ari for a long, long fucking time. You have no idea, Haz. I was as angry as him, I didn't beat up people but I hid for a long time in the closet. It still feels weird to say this out loud, I never tell people "hey, I'm gay", I keep quiet and wait for them to figure it out. I'm not as brave as you think, I still have my struggles._

_Being gay was easy, being openly gay was not. My parents love me, maybe they love me a little too much since they're all over my business, however, they support me and that's the most important thing in the world. When you thought that I was homophobic, I couldn't help but feel dumb and amused at the same time. How could you have not realized that I was into men?_

_Then I remembered that your eyes are still innocent, they don't look at people with prejudice and assumptions, they just look._

_I'm trying to let you in, it's hard though. I hide from you, I hide from people because I'm scared of disappointing them. I don't want to disappoint you, I've been hearing about you since I was nine. Nine. Nine years of difference. It feels like a lifetime sometimes. I'm over exaggerating as always, don't mind me. You make me feel defenceless, vulnerable and naked, you make me feel like a teenager again, it's crazy._

_No one can control you, though. You're Harry._

_As a next reading experience, why don't you read another YA, Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda? It's good._

_Yours,_

_Louis._

Louis wrote a lot, he seemed to open up when he was writing and I now understood why he liked to write, why writing was his passion and his life. I wondered if he was ever going to drop his job and dedicate himself to a life filled with writing, books and poems. He had chosen the wrong career, I was now realizing it and I also realized that, perhaps, what I saw as manipulation was just fear and concern. Did I read him wrong? Did I get scared because I could not understand him?

_Hi Lou,_

_I just finished to read your letter and I've already started reading the book you've suggested. Thank you for that, all these new books keep me company. I don't have many friends, I prefer to stay alone with my books and my movies. Do you like movies? I could send you some of my DVDs. Or I could make you a list if you have Netflix or Prime Video._

_It's almost the end of June now, it's crazy. Another three weeks until school ends, I'm so scared yet so excited. I want to move on from high school, it fits me a little too tight, I'm growing up. I guess. Maybe I'm just full of myself and my narcissistic tendencies are popping out, I apologize for that. No. I'm not apologizing at all, why should I apologize? You never say sorry for being yourself, you carry yourself so differently from me._

_I've never been openly gay, by the way. I don't hide it but I've never come out. I think my parents don't know about it. I've kissed a boy or two before, nothing crazy, but I've tried to kiss girls, too, it didn't feel right, though. I feel stupid now, I shouldn't have thought that you were homophobic, I assumed it because I wanted to hate it, I needed to find a flaw in you and hate you. At first, I hated you for your personality, you can be a pain in the ass, but then it started to rub off on me and I started to like it._

_Then it was the school thing, then it was how you dressed, how you talked, how you looked at me._

_You can make me feel like a kid, I swear._

_Talking to you helps, I've never been so open with someone before, you're too much sometimes but I can't get enough of it. Of you. When you brought me home, I didn't want you to leave._

_Were you talking about me while we were discussing Cass? Were you talking about yourself when we were talking about The Man from that story?_

_If so, why?_

_You make me vulnerable, too, Lou. You make me scared, you make me tremble like a leaf when you're around. I'm talking too much._

_Yours as well,_

_Harry_

The woman at the post office started to recognize me, we chatted for a few minutes after I sent Louis' his letter. She was nice and a little old, not as old as my grandmother, though. I liked that we sent letters to each other, it was more intimate than a text message or a phone call and I preferred to take my time, I had to think about the words I wanted to use with Louis, I could not risk to have an argument with him or make him nervous.

We kept on sending each other letters until the early weeks of July. Louis had opened up to me over those weeks, he had sent me multiple letters where he confessed to me that he did not know what he was supposed to do after his vacation, he did not know if he wanted to keep on working as a grant writer or take some time for himself so that he could write his book. He did not know if he even wanted to come back to Holmes Chapel, he had found peace in Whitby and he liked the atmosphere of that soft, cosy town.

I did not know what to tell him, he was older than me and in my head he was supposed to have his own life figured out. He was almost thirty - he was now 27, on his way to 28 - and I was only eighteen, I did not know what to do with my own life and I was now doubting my decisions because of Louis. I found the courage to advise him to take some more time off, perhaps if he allowed himself to let go completely, he would be able to understand his true needs. 


	3. 18, 27

Louis came back to Holmes Chapel on a sunny and warm Monday morning. I had prepared my bags the night before, I spent the early hours of the morning awake, rolling around in my bed and thinking about those three weeks I was going to spend with Louis, alone. My mother and father were pleased to see that we were now on good terms, they were happy about the fact that we had been able to resolve our initial arguments.

We had not resolved them, they had just disappeared over the months because we had learnt to understand each other. Louis still mentioned my decision to study law here and there, but he was not pressuring me into deciding what to do, we talked with each other but we did not investigate, we did not push each other's buttons like before. In my opinion, we grew up, we became different: I was now a young adult and Louis was not a pain in the ass anymore. He had changed his whole style, he had changed his behaviour, too. I realized how much he had grown as a person when he exited his car.

Louis still drove his Mini, however his clothes were different and so were his hair, his face, his whole persona. He was not wearing a suit or "professional" clothes with uncomfortable shoes on, he had ditched that apparel. Louis was now sporting a pair of soft-looking grey sweatpants, a pair of beaten up black Old Skool Vans and a black t-shirt; his hair was a little shaggy and it has grown quite a lot, he still had a fringe but this time it was relaxed and soft looking.

Louis looked better, he looked happier.

My mother and father hugged him, they kissed his cheeks and talked to him while I put my bags in the trunk of his car. My mother had baked him a cake while my father had bought him a bottle of wine, it was their way of thanking him for taking me to his house for three weeks. Louis kissed my mother's cheek and he hugged my father before getting in the car with me. We still had not said a word to each other, we had just glanced at one another with a small smile, a delicate grin that meant more than words.

"The drive shouldn't be that long, there isn't a lot of traffic today." Louis waved at my parents while leaving the property. "Once we get there, you should put away your things. If you've forgotten something, we can go shopping. We have to go grocery shopping anyway, I don't know what you like and I... I kind of lived on taking out for the last week."

I laughed. "Don't worry, I can cook. I brought one of my cookbooks with me, just in case." Louis nodded and glanced at me. He was so different from before, he seemed more at ease around me, more comfortable. Was it because he came out? Was it because I came out to him? "How did you survive during these months?"

"I know how to make some basic dishes, I mean, I've been living on my own for years. I know how to survive, kind of." We chuckled and I looked out of the window, I liked the view, it was new to me. "Your mum told me that your exams went well, she said it's more than enough for a scholarship."

"Yeah, I guess. I haven't thought about it, yet. I just want to focus on myself for a little while. Law is going to be... yeah, I just want to focus on myself right now." I smiled tightly at Louis and he nodded, staring at the road with his hand firmly wrapped around the steering wheel. "Have you thought about your job?"

Louis hummed. "I'm gonna quit. I saved enough money to live comfortably for a year, maybe I'll find a part-time job or something. I want to give writing a shot." He was so sure of his words, I assumed he looked better because he had put his attention just on himself. Maybe being in Whitby for three weeks would help me, too. "I'm also thinking about moving to Whitby indefinitely. I like it, it's therapeutic."

I was speechless.

"You know, it's good for me, Whitby is new and no one knows me there. I don't have to live up to a standard and I don't have to be someone I'm not." Louis murmured.

"I mean, it's up to you, Lou. You should do what makes you happy." He looked at me and smiled at me, tilting his head to the side. "Is Whitby that beautiful?"

"Yeah, it is, it's a lovely place and... I don't know, I just love it. It's not that big, the sea is stunning and the people are wonderful, they're patient and they just make the two feel like home." Louis' hands on the wheel tightened and he cleared his throat.

We stayed quiet for a little while, Louis kept on driving and I kept on looking out of the window. The scenery was amazing, I could tell that we were moving past the boring and grey place I was so used to live in. The atmosphere in the car was becoming a little tense, Louis and I did not talk for a while, I guessed we were both absorbed in our thoughts and we did not want to disturb one another. I kept on thinking about what he said, about our letters and about our next three weeks in Whitby, alone, just the two of us.

In our letters, Louis did not address my questions about Cass and The Man, he did not ask me anything else about my sexuality. I did not want to pressure him into telling me if he was talking about us, I was scared of the answer. I did not want to know if he was referring to us, I did not want to know if he was actually thinking those things about me, about himself. Did he see me as the male version of Cass? Was I that broken and scared?

I had also opened my heart, I had told Louis what had gone through my mind when he was at my place, however, he avoided to talk about it in his next letter. He kept the tone light and closeted off, he had not let me in that time, he had hidden from me; I hated to admit that it had hurt me a lot. I had started to the thought that Louis and I were friends, that we were close, however, I was wrong, apparently. Louis just saw me as the kid who was nine years younger than him, the annoying kid of his parents' friends.

The drive lasted two and a half hours, Louis put on some music and we just decided to enjoy the songs, singing and chuckling together. Louis had a pretty nice taste in music, he still used CDs from what I saw into the glove compartment, he had a lot of old bands and names of singer I used to see in my dad's collection of vinyl. We arrived at Whitby as the last notes of an old rock band faded off, as soon as I saw the first glimpses of the town, I understood why Louis loved it, everything seemed to belong in a fairytale.

Louis' house was tiny, the walls were cerulean and he had a tiny garden filled with flowers and there was a tree on the left side, under it there was a tiny wooden table with two wooden chairs. I was a little taken aback, I was expecting him to live in a flat and not in a house that looked like something my parents would have bought when they were two newlyweds. Sometimes I forgot that Louis was an actual adult, he had a steady and rich income that allowed him to be able to live comfortably wherever he wanted.

The furniture inside was... minimal. There was not a lot around. The living room had an L shaped white couch, a black wooden table and a white rug that complemented the couch, a TV was hanging from the wall and there were two lamps on each side of the living room; the kitchen was not that big, it had a white counter with black wooden stools, there was an oven, a stove and few other balsa counters - all of it was white - topped by two cabinets; the bathroom was nothing remarkable, there were a toilet, a sink and a large bathtub that was next to a medium-sized shower, everything was white and black, like the towels that hung over the rim of the glass shower doors; the master bedroom had a bed with white sheets, there was a black armchair situated under the window and there was a black wooden library in front of the bed, a black dresser and a black wardrobe; the guest bedroom was pretty similar to the main one, however, there were two armchairs and a desk instead of the library.

I put my bags on the floor, I took off my shoes and I wiggled my toes, the rug was very soft and it tickled me. Louis left the room and I took advantage of the time so that I could tidy everything up, putting my clothes in the wardrobe and dresser. I put my books and my journal on the desk and my swimming trunks on an armchair.

"Are you ready to go grocery shopping? Or do you want a drink first?" Louis asked once I walked out of the bathroom. "We can eat something if you're hungry."

I shrugged and tugged on my shirt. "I guess we can go shopping, maybe we could eat something later. I'm not hungry yet." I patted the back of my jeans, checking if my phone and wallet were there. "Yeah, we can go."

Louis looked at me with a small smile, we were tiptoeing around each other and there was a thick layer of embarrassment hovering above us. Louis had never commented on my coming out, he had never asked me to think about me, he just talked about everything and nothing at the same time. I did not know if he was doing that on purpose, or if he was trying to stay out of my business, however, I wanted him to ask, to snoop around.

"There's a club near the beach, we can go there tonight." Louis parked the car. "If you want."

I shook my head, I did not want to go out to party, it had never been my crowd anyway. "I think I'll pass, I'm tired." Louis grabbed a reusable bag from the back of his car and put on his sunglasses. "If you want to go, you can. I'm old enough to look after myself."

"No, I want to spend time with you." He took a cart and stared at me. "C'mon."

He wanted to spend time with me, Louis wanted to spend time with me. He was not forced to, but he wanted to stay with me, get to know me and perhaps have fun with me, too. I was speechless, I did not want to know what I might do after realizing that Louis wanted to pass the evening with me. I enjoyed my time with Louis, I loved the time we spent together and since getting there I was having a lot of fun, he was a nice guy. I was fascinated by him, I have always been and I was afraid to admit that, however, I was scared of what could happen now that we were alone together.

We bought enough groceries for a week, Louis bought wine too, he said he liked to drink a glass or two during dinner. While shopping, Louis touched my back, my arms, my elbows and the back of my neck. He was always next to me, close to me, I could feel his warmth and his soft breath on my skin, which made me shiver and curl up, almost as if I wanted to hide from him. Louis still made me nervous, perhaps it was because he looked at me differently, his gaze was not like everyone else's.

Louis put the groceries away while I hanged around the kitchen, we did not talk about much, we just chit-chatted about our plans for the rest of the week. Louis wanted to go to the beach, I was on board with that but I wanted to sleep in, Louis did not agree since he had planned to sunbathe from 8 am to 11 am. Louis showed me where the beach towels, the sunscreen and sunglasses where in the house - he literally collected sunglasses, it was cute in my opinion.

We prepared lunch together, we made two sandwiches since it was already late and we did not want to spoil our appetites; we wanted to cook some fish that night, we had found a fresh mackerel and I could cook it, which intrigued Louis and his stomach. Our day was progressing slowly, we still had a halo of embarrassment around us, we could not talk without ending up in an uncomfortable silence that made my skin crawl. It had happened the same with our letters. After I confessed to Louis that I was gay, that I had not wanted him to leave my house when he had brought me home, he had shut me out of his life.

"I'm going to watch some TV, you can join me if you want. On the couch." Louis murmured while drying his plate.

I followed him in the living room and we sat down, I scooted closer to him and I rested my hands on my thighs. "What are we going to watch?"

"I have no idea, we'll see what we find on Netflix." Louis was rigid, he was not relaxing and he was on edge. The roles had reversed. "Movie or TV series?" I shrugged. "Let's watch _Interstellar_ then."

"I've seen it, I think. I'm not sure."

"It's a good movie, Harry." I moved closer to him and Louis glanced at me. "What are you doing?"

"Getting comfortable."

 _Interstellar_ was long. I got sucked up into the movie as soon as I saw the opening scene, it was not my favourite genre of films but I liked it, I loved the cinematography and the story; I ended up crying halfway through it and Louis looked at me, placing his hand on my knee and patting it gently. We did not talk throughout the movie, we sat in silence and we kept our eyes on the screen, perhaps a sniff or two was heard in the house. Louis did not cry, he kept his eyes on the TV and his hand on my knee, over the course of an hour he started to caress it, squeezing it rhythmically and pressing his thumb on my leg.

Once we reached the part of the black hole, I was fully sobbing. Louis had asked me if I wanted to stop watching it but I was too invested into the story, I wanted to know how it was going to end. Louis moved closer to me, he placed one of his arms around my shoulders and I rested my head on his shoulder, sniffing and quietly rubbing my eyes. I cried until the movie ended, my eyes were already starting to become red and swollen, my nose was puffy and stuffed, I also felt like crap because I had not cried like that in a long time.

"I didn't know it'd turn out this way," Louis whispered while handing me another tissue. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you cry."

"It's fine." I murmured while blowing my nose, Louis was still looking at me. "I think I confused _The Martian_ with _Interstellar_." We laughed and I leaned back on the couch, smiling at Louis with a sleepy grin. "It was a good movie, really powerful. I liked it a lot, I wasn't ready to bawl my eyes out, though. Sorry for making a scene."

Louis shook his head, he moved his hand down on my back and patted it gently. "It's okay, we've all been there." He stood up and stretched his back, he looked down at me and I rose to my feet as well. "Do you feel better?" I nodded and he rubbed my shoulder, his thumb rested next to my neck and I leaned into his touch. "Do you wanna go to the beach? We can have a drink there, enjoy the breeze, have a nice time."

"Yeah, just- just let me wash my face." He hummed and moved away from me. "Lou?" There was no going back now, I needed to know why he had pushed me away from his life once he had found out I was gay. It was tormenting me, it was driving me crazy and I could not deal with the unsettling feeling pooled at the bottom of my stomach for three weeks. "Do you hate me because I'm gay?"

Louis stared at me with his eyes wide open, I thought he was looking for words, for the right words, to say to me. He looked bewildered, he looked confused and he was fishing for sentences and coherent thoughts. He did not answer me, he sat down on the couch and then he stood up again, he clutched a box of tissues in his hands and he dug his nails into it. I had never seen someone so confused yet so scared at the same time, I was nervous, I was lost, too.

"I don't hate you." Louis licked his lower lip and took a step forward. "It's just that you drive me bloody mad, and it's wrong. It's wrong because you're eighteen, I'm twenty-seven and you keep looking at me with those eyes..." He gulped and ran a hand down his face. "I didn't like you at first, I didn't. I thought you were a bratty kid who picked law just because it'd profit him. But then I got to know you after your birthday and I just felt drawn to you. First, it was your personality, then it was what you look like, then it was our discussion about books."

"Louis I-"

"Let me finish." He sighed and licked his lower lip. "You started to talk about those bloody books like our lives depended on it. It struck me there, that I liked you. That damn perfume wasn't even on sale, I just bought it because it made me think of you and I thought nothing of it, but then I realized I liked you and I felt like crap." Louis was frantic, his hands were twitching and he was looking at me with a terrified expression on his face. "I thought that it was wrong, you're nine years younger than me and it scared me. But I'm selfish and I sent you those books and invited you here because I didn't want to lose you. When you sent me _that_ letter, I was freaking out. I wanted to tell you that I wanted to stay too, but I couldn't." He was closer to me now, he still looked like a deer caught by a car's headlights. "I haven't been attracted to someone in a long time, I was living my life on my own, happy and carefree, then you came around. You and your bloody personality, your eyes and your theories about books and movies." He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes with a tired sigh. "You told me you are gay and Hell broke loose, I convinced myself I could take a chance and try."

"Louis-"

"I'm not done!" He looked at me with a stern look and I sighed. "Now you're here, you look at me I like I hurt you because I did hurt you. I hid again. We reversed our roles, now I'm Cass, now I'm Ari. You're here in my house for three weeks but then what? You'll go back to Manchester and you'll study law, you'll find a nice boy who's as old as you, and I'll... I'll just fade away. However, you're spending time with me and I can't help but want to kiss you because I tired of being scared."

"I don't know about law, Louis. I'm still figuring that out. That's why I'm here." I took one of his shaky hands in my own and I rubbed his knuckles. "I hated you, too, at first. You were pissing me off and for a while, I thought you were toying with me. But then I got to know you and I think I caught feelings." I had never said that to someone, I had never liked a guy as much as I liked Louis, it was new for both of us. "We don't have to be Cass, we don't have to be Ari, we just have to be Louis and Harry." His hands were still shaking but it was less prominent. "I think... I think we could use these weeks as a starting point, we can see what we want to do if we truly like each other."

Louis nodded and licked his lower lip, I tightened my hand on his and I stepped closer to him. "Sounds good."

"This is only our first day together, isn't it funny? We're left alone for a few hours and we end up talking about feelings." We both laughed and Louis linked our fingers together. "I'm up for that kiss, though."

"Later."

I felt better now that we talked about ourselves. I was not expecting Louis to like me, to say that he liked me, it was unexpected yet welcomed. I liked Louis, too. I rarely liked people and Louis just got me, I linked with him quite easily and it had confused me at first, I was not used to it. We were different yet we were pretty similar, I had misread Louis in the past but I wanted to get to know him, I wanted to understand who he truly was. We both deserved to have a healthy relationship, we deserved someone who understood us; perhaps we could be each other's someone.

Louis was scared of our age gap, nine years could be a lot. However I was a consenting adult and he had never made moves on me when I was seventeen, we could not stand each other until a few months prior. I had started to like Louis after my birthday party, he had started to feel more toward me after "saving" me from that storm. Our sentiments were new, they were unexplored and they were difficult to deal with, especially for me since I had never felt something toward someone like Louis.

In the past I had had crushes, I had hooked up with guys and I had a "boyfriend" for a month or two, but I had never had any feeling toward them, I just liked them physically, we did not connect emotionally and I thought that was normal, that that was the standard procedure of every relationship. However that was not true, and Louis proved me wrong. I had never been interested in him from a physical level - at least not at first - and he seemed interesting to me because he was an arsehole who was educated and charming.

I figured I caught feelings, well, properly caught feelings for him, during our letters exchange. He was being nice, he understood me and gave me advice if I needed it, he tried to support me as best as he could, he listened to me ramble on paper about books and my doubts, he listened. It was just a matter of time for me, and for him too, but we were still walking on eggshells. It pissed me off, I wanted him to trust himself and trust me.

I packed a bag with a beach towel and sunscreen, I put a bathing suit on and tied up my hair, I did not want to sweat too much, it was hot outside. Whitby was a lovely place, the atmosphere was nice and the soft Summer breeze made everything better, it allowed me to sunbathe without suffering under the scorching Sun. The beach was still populated but the majority of people were already walking back to their houses, Louis and I were the only one going for a swim at 6 pm; we wanted to play around and have fun, plus the water was wonderful and still lukewarm.

Louis was stronger than me. He pushed me into an oncoming wave and I dragged him down with me, we ended up with our swimming trunks full of sand and our hair wet; I did not mind it, it was fun. We kept on swimming, we fooled around for a few more minutes until the Sun started to set and the breeze became a hot and humid wind, our fingers were also starting to prune and the water was not as warm as before. We rushed to put our clothes back on and I tried my best to dry my hair, I did not want it to lose its natural shape, it had taken me years to grow my curls and I took care of them as best as I could.

We walked down the shore, we chatted about dinner, about our plans for the night, about the drinks we wanted to order once we reached Louis' favourite kiosk. We kept the conversation light and easy, we did not want to end up talking about that afternoon, it was not the right time yet. I did not want to spoil our night by pestering him, I wanted to respect his wishes and focus on enjoying our day together. I did want to kiss him, I did want to try it out - just to see if it could feel right and good - but it was not the right time yet.

Louis ordered a mimosa and I settled on a pina colada, I like the sweet taste of the drink and I was a big fan or white rum. My mother rarely kept it around the house, but I had tried it at a party one night, one of my friends had bought it and since then I started to like it. Louis eyed the tiny umbrella on my cocktail with a small smile, we took our drinks to go and we walked back to his place, my feet hurt and my arms were a little sore. I needed to lie down and relax for a little while, my muscles were starting to become too rigid for my liking.

Later arrived after dinner and after we took a shower. I spent a rather long time in the bathroom, I had to dry my hair somehow and Louis' hairdryer was not the best, it was old and it made a metallic sound whenever you turned it on. I did not like to dry my hair completely but I was used to blow-drying my roots and then allow the lengths to dry on their own. Louis did not like it, he complained about the fifteen minutes I spent drying my hair, about my complaints. It was done in a fun and light-hearted way, we did not argue, we just poked each other in a teasing way.

It was fun.

"Your tree is freaking me out," I muttered after I sat down. We had moved out in the garden, Louis wanted to smoke and I quite enjoyed the chilly Summer night. "It's... big, it looks unstable, too."

Louis laughed and flickered his lighter on. "It's pretty stable, trust me. I was thinking about putting a swing on it. I fucking love swings." He lightened his cigarette up and he took a drag, humming quietly and resting his feet on the table. "Do you want one?"

"Sure, I don't like smoking alone." I grabbed the packet of cigarettes and I mimicked his actions, I had not smoked since New Year's Eve. "A swing would be nice."

He smiled and pushed the ashtray toward me. "A wooden one, homemade. I'm not crafty but my grandad is. He'll probably make one if I ask him." He took a sip from his glass of water and turned his head in my direction. "Maybe you could try it out once I set it up."

Louis wanted me around, he wanted me to be there with him in the future. I did not know if he was just saying it to please me, but I had a feeling that he truly felt like that. I wanted to be around him, too, we had just properly connected but I was sure that our friendship, our relationship, was going to grow with a steady pace, it was going to fulfil both our needs and I was looking forward to that. Louis made me feel weird, I did not know how to deal with it but I liked being around him, he was himself and that still scared me.

"So... I'm still up for that. The kiss I mean." I looked at Louis and blew out the smoke, I was not that good at smoking but I did enjoy it, sometimes. "If you want, we could try it out."

Louis huffed out a tiny laugh and scooted closer to me with his chair, he had to take his feet off the table to do that, which did not please him at all. He was a little lazy, it was okay though, we were all lazy. Louis rested a hand on my knee and he turned around to look at me, he was nervous, I could see that from a mile away, he was fumbling a little with his hands, his palms were damp and he was looking at me with his lips parted; did I make him that nervous? Louis made me nervous, too, in a way I had never experienced before. Perhaps it was because Louis was different from everyone else, he was not a boy I had found in a bar, at a party. We had hated each other, we had tolerated each other and now we truly liked each other.

"May I?" Louis murmured, he moved a hand to my face and held it with a gentle touch, his fingers were slightly trembling but they felt good against my cheek.

I nodded and Louis leaned toward me, I squeezed his biceps and closed my eyes. We kissed, just a small kiss on the lips that made me chuckle. Louis was soft, he was gentle and caring, I wanted him to kiss me again. I took the lead, I kissed him again and Louis tightened his grip on my cheeks, which made me smile and move a little closer to him. I was enjoying that kiss way too much, I think I lost track of time while Louis kissed me, it was more than I was asking for. Louis was gentle, he was sweet, he kissed me like I was a delicate flower and I wanted more from him.

Louis pulled back first, he caressed my cheekbones and kissed my forehead, sighing quietly. "It was okay, yeah?" He murmured while rubbing my jawline.

"More than okay, we should do it again." We chuckled and I kissed him again. "Was it okay for you, too?" Louis nodded and I sneaked one of my hands down his t-shirt, caressing his back with a small smile. "You don't have to be _that_ gentle with me, I can handle a rough kiss, Lou."

That made him laugh, a loud and obnoxious laugh that culminated with him patting my chest. "Easy tiger, we still have three weeks, I don't like to spoil things too fast, let's take one day at a time."

I sighed, I understood where he was coming from but I did not appreciate it, at all. I wanted him to kiss me and make me feel like I was on cloud nine, I wanted him to kiss me deeply and passionately, I wanted to experience everything with him. Louis was still treating me so softly, so gently, he was almost trying to keep me pure, innocent. I was not. I was far from it. He did not know, though, he assumed I was a scrawny eighteen years old who fell for anyone, or at least I thought so. I wanted to believe that he thought highly of me.

We stayed out in his garden until midnight, we kissed some more, shared a cigarette and few sips of wine. It was starting to get colder outside, we did not want to go back into the house, though. We could hear the lapping of the waves from his garden, it was calming, it was relaxing and it almost lulled me to sleep. Louis liked to stay outside, he liked to look at the sky with a glass of wine in one hand and the other on my thigh; he was a touchy person. He had never stopped touching me, he had kept his hands on his lips on me, caressing my arms or my thighs and knees, kissing my cheeks and jawline. It was nice, it made me feel adored.

The rest of the week went by rather quicker than I expected. We kept on sharing kisses through the day, he kept on touching me and I kept on wanting him closer than he could even imagine. Having Louis around was comforting. Over the week we talked about University, we talked about my possible future as a lawyer, we evaluated the other options and Louis expressed his distaste toward Law, he did not like it at all. He never pressured me into making a decision, he had told me to follow my guts and my instinct. We did not talk about school for a few days after that.

Louis had officially decided to leave his job and focus on writing, at least for a little bit, it was what he wanted and he had told me that he liked that, he liked to work on himself and his passion. I admired him, I admired how determined he was. He wanted to reach his goal and I was happy for him, he deserved to be happy and be satisfied with what he had.

We spent our days lounging around, we liked to stay close and have fun, we went for drinks and we made our cocktails in his kitchen, kissing while mixing my margarita. We were having fun, seven days passed way too quickly and I suddenly felt lost, I was already attached to him and the house, to our little routine and our private space. Louis was soft, he was sweet and he kissed me and held me all the time, even at the beach. Especially at the beach. We played around, we ran into the sea and acted silly, we had fun while being obnoxiously sweet. Louis kissed me while swimming, while tanning, while putting sunscreen on; he always kissed me.

Louis liked to hold my hands. Even if he was older than me, he was shorter and tinier than me, which meant that his hands barely managed to hold mine, I appreciated the gesture and it felt good to have those tiny fingers wrapped around my hands. Louis never held my whole hand, he usually held my index, middle finger and ring finger, he held them tight in his grip, and that allowed me to rub the back of his hand with my thumb and tap on know knuckles with my pinkie.

Sunday was different, it was a cosy and warm day, the Sun was high in the sky and Louis woke me up with a kiss on the cheek. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, he was still wearing his pyjamas and his hair was all messed up, his eyes were still full of sleep and he looked younger than he was. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and tugged him down on the bed, kissing his forehead and yawning quietly. Louis had never woken me up by kissing me, he usually called my name from the hallway and knocking on my door twice; I liked the change, though.

"We should do something fun and different," Louis said after we properly sat up on my bed. "We could go and explore Whitby, and you haven't had Fish and Chips here, yet. It's a shame. And there's also the local Abbey, it's stunning."

"Quayside?" Louis nodded and I stretched my arms out. "I'd love that, mum mentioned it."

"We should also go and check out the cinemas, there might be something cool that we could watch together. I haven't been to the movies in a long time." Louis stood up and took my hand in his own. "But now, breakfast."

It was a good day, I felt inspired and I made sure to write some notes down on my journal. I had lost my interest into writing and reviewing movies in the privacy of my room, however, my hands prickled and tingled that day, it was a familiar feeling that I had not experienced in a long time. Was it because of Louis? Perhaps it was, after all, any kind of art needed a muse. Louis had let out interesting and stimulating facts about himself and his life over the week, I had stored each one of them into my mind and - if I applied myself - I could string everything together and create something.

I was still thinking about Law, about the possibility of becoming a damn lawyer, but the idea of living in an office and working day and night on cases upon cases made me sick. It made me feel nauseous now. I thought it could be Louis' fault, too. He had chosen to be himself, he had chosen to be happy and be successful on his own, he had shown me that, in the end, your true passions will always come back and bite you in the arse.

I knew I had to talk to my mother and father about my ideas, I did not want to disappoint them but at the same time I needed to be myself, I needed to become my own person. I was terrified of disappointing them, I did not want to let them down by picking screenwriting and directing as a University major. It was not a steady nor secure income, it was not going to be a safe future but it was what felt right to me. I liked it, it allowed me to create and experience, to analyze my emotions and it was just like therapy.

Before making my own decision, I wanted to start writing screenplays again, I had so many unfinished projects in my laptop that were good, not the best nor extraordinary, but good, decent for an eighteen-years-old. I promised myself to bring my laptop to the beach during the following weeks, I wanted to write something and revise my old projects. I wanted to try it out, I needed to try it out if I wanted to give my artistic career a shot.

Quayside's fish and chips were amazing, it tasted delicious and I fell in love with it after the first bite; my mum was correct, and so was Louis. We strolled around, our hands linked together and our arms touching, Louis never let me out of his sight, he stayed close to me and I loved that. He kissed me after I finished eating, we still tasted like fried fish and Sprite, I did not mind, it was playful and a little childish, it was still sweet and gentle, it was us.

Us. It was a weird concept to me, we were not an item, we were not together, we were just testing the waters. So far so good, at least for me. I liked Louis a lot, he treated me right, he made me feel good and he cherished our moments together, I was never bored around him and I always enjoyed his presence next to mine. We shared the same thoughts, we shared the same interests and Louis liked to listen to me ramble about movies, humming here and there while combing my hair.

Louis liked to have his hands on me, he said it was grounding. Before going to sleep, he combed my hair; he made me sit on the toilet lid, he parted my hair in small section and combed and styled my hair as best as he could. It was not that long, just barely past my ears, but Louis liked it, he said it made me look like a prince. Louis kissed me every night while doing my hair, he kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, my chin, he just kissed me until every last section of hair was soft and perfectly styled.

We walked while eating our food, Louis wanted to show me the Whalebone Arch, which was on the way to Whitby Abbey. The arch was not that big, but the Abbey was stunning, I liked exploring new places and Whitby felt magical to me, it was more than I could ask for and Louis almost made everything better.

"It's going to rain soon, we should head home soon if we don't wanna get soaked." Louis tilted his head back to look at the sky, which was now covered by thick, grey clouds; England was truly something else.

"It could be fun." I poked Louis' hip and he swatted my hand away. "C'mon, Lou, please. It'd be fun! We can run around, kiss under the rain, be cheesy and act like we're in a rom-com."

"Harry, I'm 29, I'm too old to act like I'm in a rom-com." Louis chuckled and raised my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles with a loud sigh. "Plus, we need to go back to the car, I highly doubt we'll get caught in the downpour."

"You're such a killjoy, Louis."

"I'm the voice of reason in this... thing we have going on. One of us has to be the unfunny one, Haz." Louis squeezed my hand and I dug my nails in his thumb, which made him hiss and stare at me with a raised eyebrow. "Bossy, has anyone ever told you how bossy you are?"

I did not know where I found the courage, but I spoke up anyway. "Instead of talking, why don't you do something about it?" I did not blush, nor stutter, I held his gaze proudly while holding his hand in a firm grip.

Louis tried to fish for words for a long minute, he looked at me, then at his feet, then at me again. "Maybe later." His voice was gruff, low and quivering.

Did I make him feel like that?

Later, later, later. It was always "later" with him, it confused me. Why did he always want to wait, what did he gain from it? He acted as if he had to think about every little thing he did around me, it was frustrating and infuriating sometimes, I wanted him to be spontaneous and direct, just like me. It was we deserve, it was how good relationships worked. I did not want Louis to overthink his every move, I wanted him to be honest with me, I wanted his actions to be heartfelt and not calculated.

As I pondered over that turn of event, a few drops of rain started to fall from the sky. It was getting colder, too, I was not dressed properly and my health was not the best. Louis did not know I had asthma, it was usually under control and I never headed out without my inhaler, but rain and prolonged walking made me prone to have an asthma attack. I could not afford to get sick, get a cough and ruin my vacation; if I got sick, my asthma would kick in and it would snowball from there. I did not want that.

The idea of staying out under the rain was tempting, however, Louis' hand tugged on mine forcefully, he wanted to reach the car and warm his hands up, which were cold. He was not dressed properly either, I assumed he had recently found a burning passion for Vans since he had been wearing those for the past week. He had different pairs with different themes and patterns, too, but they were all Vans, either slip-on or Old Skool.

"You got your rom-com moment, are you happy now?" His hair was dripping wet, he was slightly shivering and I could not help my hands from roaming up his arms. "I bloody hate England, it shouldn't be raining and it shouldn't be this cold."

I laughed and rubbed my hands over his shoulders with a small smile, I was trying to warm him up even though - in my opinion - it was not that cold outside. "You're such a grumpy old man sometimes." Louis rolled his eyes, he swatted my hands away with a glare. "I like it, though."

"Why are you flirting with me?"

"I feel like it."

"He feels like it." Louis shook his head and sighed loudly, I was close to him and I could feel his breath on my face. "What am I even supposed to do with you, mhm?" He raised a hand and placed it on my face, his fingers were still cold but they were not shivering anymore.

"I don't know, what do you want to do?" The air and the atmosphere was changing around us, we were making it awkward now, I was making it awkward. I just could not wait any more, I needed to know if he felt the same.

Louis' hand moved down to the back of my neck, his grip was tight and strong, it was firm, almost manly in a way that I could not explain. It kept me grounded at that moment, it kept me focused on what was going in that car. "I want to do a lot of things for you, Harry. Not yet, though. It's too soon, I don't want to rush."

"We only have two weeks left, Louis."

"Do you want to stop seeing me after these three weeks?" I shook my head. "Then we have more than that."

Did we?

Louis was supposed to stay in Whitby until he finished his book, he had told me that while we were drinking rosé in his garden. We did not have time, we did not. I was going to attend Manchester University, which was two hours and a half away from him, how could that work? He had to work, I had to study, we would not have a lot of free time. He was almost thirty, I was barely nineteen, we were on two different paths, he was supposed to settle down, have a family and build his own life; I was supposed to get my degree, find a job and then work myself to the bone. Louis had already done that.

I did not understand why he wanted to keep on seeing me, I did not understand why he wanted me around, I was a young adult, he was a fully grown man. How could we work together when we were not even in the same town? His hopeful smile floored me, I thought I was cheating on him, betraying him, with my thoughts. I wanted this thing to work, I wanted to have a relationship with Louis, even if we were going to break up in the future, I wanted to try with him. He had been the first man that had made me feel something genuine, it was not plain physical attraction.

Louis understood me, he made me feel like a real person, like someone who did not need to be fake, I did not have to wear a mask around him. I could be Harry, just Harry. He made me want to create, he made me want to sit in silence for hours when we were together, I needed time, I needed to look at him, stare at him until every little detail was engraved in my memories. I did not want to miss a thing, I did not want to let those moments slip out of my hands. I could not afford to lose other memories, I could not afford to lose him either.

I took the initiative. I took the lead once we reached Louis' place, I could not wait any longer. Louis tried to keep his kisses soft and innocent, he did not touch my body below my ribcage, he was fumbling with his words, too, he was trying to tell me that we did not have to rush, we did not have to dive headfirst into whatever we had. I did not care, I wanted him to touch me, kiss me, make me fall apart in the best way possible, I deserved to feel wanted and he deserved it, too. I did lustfully look at Louis, how could I not do that?

"Bedroom." I murmured on his lips, I was pushing him toward the hallway and he was stumbling around. "Don't tell me you're nervous, I should be the messy one right now."

"Is-" He cleared his throat and I opened my bedroom's door. "Is it your first time?" I shrugged, Louis kissed me and I pushed him down on the bed. "Harry."

"No, I mean, I'm not a virgin, I've had sex with girls before." I sat on his lap, sighing quietly. "One girl, actually, at a party." He scoffed and then laughed, his eyes scrunched close and I kissed his lips. "Didn't feel right, though."

"Does this feel right?" Louis was soft with me, it drove me crazy how tender and careful he was around me. He tucked one of my curls behind my ear.

"It feels more than right."

Louis kissed me, he was asking me to take the lead now and I gave it to him, I rested my hands on his shoulders while he sat up against the headboard of the bed. I was straddling his lap and we were still fully clothed, we were quiet and we were looking at each other, I could not have enough of him, he was everything I had ever dreamt about. Louis sneaked his hands under my t-shirt, his palms were always a little damp and that made me shiver, his fingers were stroking my spine in slow motion, lips latched onto my jaw.

We stayed in that position for a long time, we kept on touching each other without removing our clothes, we were playing with one another and we both liked it, it felt intimate. Louis decided to take my t-shirt off once I calmed down a little, I was not pushing him anymore, I was not whining nor huffing out long sighs, I was just enjoying his touch and his calmness. Louis kissed my lips with a small smile on his face and I undressed him as well, I was now able to look at him and touch him however I pleased.

I had already seen him shirtless and almost naked during the week, Louis was always shirtless around the house and we spent a lot of time at the beach, I had gotten used to seeing him without a top. However, the situation was different now, we were going have sex and he looked completely different to me, I noticed freckles, moles and beauty marks that I had never seen before; he also had rosy patches on his stomach, which was very cute in my opinion. Louis blushed in the weirds spots ever, his cheeks never darkened, it was always on his jaw, on the tip of his ears and - apparently - on his chest.

"Can I take your shorts off?" I nodded and Louis patted my arse with a soft chuckle. I kneeled on the bed and Louis pulled my shorts down, I kicked them off of my legs and then thrown them on the ground. "I'll leave your boxers on, for now, I'll worry about them later."

"Why later? It's always later with you."

Louis laughed and guided me back on hi slap once he took off his pants. "I like to take my time, we are not in a rush now, are we?" Louis loved to do that, I was starting to enjoy it as well. "You look wonderful, come here, come closer." Louis' voice was lower than before, it made my knees weak and I fell forward, ending up plastered on his chest. We had no space between us, we were tangled together.

I did not know what to say to Louis, I was starting to get aroused by those gentle touches he left on my back, on my arms, on my legs, on my butt. He squeezed it in his hands and kissed me until we were out of breath, I had my hands on Louis' face, my thumbs on his cheeks and my other finger on the back of his head.

"Do we even... have the right stuff?" I asked while Louis started to kiss down my neck, biting on it until he left a hickey just below my jawline. Louis nodded and I leaned back, I looked at him and noticed his tousled hair, his liquid gaze and puff lips. "You look like a hedgehog."

Louis huffed out a tiny laugh and nipped on my neck. "You're mean, very mean." He kissed my lips and pushed me down on the bed, he got on top of me and held my hips, his fingers pulled my boxers down in a swift motion, then - after a few heartbeats - he did the same to himself. "Stay."

I looked at him, he moved down my body, kissing my sternum and pressing on my nipples with his thumbs. He looked down at my body and then up at me, he stared directly at me and grazed the sensitive skin with his fingernails, making me hiss and arch my back. He moved down again, he kissed my two extra nipples, too, rubbing his indexes over them with a quiet giggle; no one had ever done that. Louis ended up kneeling on the floor he had his hands on my knees and his lips pressed on my left inner thigh, he was feasting on it, he was biting, sucking and licking a certain portion of skin with vigour. He was going to leave a mark for sure.

I tried to move, but I felt as if my body had been chained down on the bed by Louis' words. _Stay_. I felt myself growing bigger and harder inside his mouth, I wanted to tug on his hair and beg him to do something, anything. Louis' tongue was long and soft, no one had ever made me feel like that, I was already so close and I did not want to come like that, it was too soon. Louis was caressing my thigh with a hand while the other gripped the base of my cock, carefully squeezing it while he toyed with the tip. He pulled back before I could embarrass myself.

"I want to touch you." My voice was raspy and my legs were shaking in the slightest, what was happening to me?

"Stay." Louis murmured on my lips, a hand around my cock. "Let me take care of you tonight. We have time."

I whined and Louis kissed me, stopping my protests with his lips. He kissed me until I was pliant again, my muscles were still tense and I did not know what to do. _Stay._ I swallowed down a mouthful of air, Louis had moved back to my cock, his lips were around me once again. This time he focused on using his tongue more than his mouth or throat, he licked my dick from its base to its tip, swirling his tongue around it while keeping our eyes locked together.

My hands twitched beside me and I curled my toes. _Stay_. God, I wanted to touch him, I wanted to mess up his hair even more and scratch his back while he sucked me off. However, Louis pulled back and kissed my pelvis, little pecks that he placed all over my skin while he moved back up toward my face. He laced our fingers together, I could feel his hard, swollen and throbbing cock on my thigh, it was hot against my skin and I tensed my thigh muscles; it was getting to me, I was going to have sex with Louis.

"I'm going to prepare you now, is that okay?" Louis murmured in my ear, he was caressing my hips and I caught his lower lip with my teeth, I sucked on it and Louis tried to smile.

"Can I move now?" I raised my head, I made my forehead touch his and Louis nodded, our eyes tied together once more. "Okay, good."

Louis left the room to go and grab the condom and the lube, I suddenly felt naked and exposed, I looked down at myself and I noticed that pre-come was already leaking down my cock. What has Louis done for me? He aroused me with his touch, his kisses and his sweet caresses on my body, the mind-blowing blowjob was just a plus. Louis was too much for me to handle but in a good way.

He came back after a minute. I stared at him. His chest was still rosy, his arms were flexed and he looked tense, on edge, he was still beautiful though. I let my eyes wander down his toned stomach, down to his crotch where his cock stood erect, red and extremely hard. I did that to him, I made it hard. That realization filled my body with confidence, Louis was in that state - eyes bewildered and hands tight around the lube - because of me.

Louis did not lie down on top of me, he knelt on the bed and I flipped around, rising to my hands and knees, just like he had asked. It felt intimate and I felt exposed, it was almost as if he could look directly into my head and see what was going on inside of me; I had never felt like that before. I was mentally preparing myself for the pain that was going to shake my muscles, however, I had to bite back a quiet sound when Louis touched me. His fingers were slippery and they felt different on my skin, yet his caresses were still welcomed.

"Tell me if it's too much." Louis' voice was rougher than usual, deeper, he suddenly felt very close to me, I could almost perceive his breath next to my ear. "I don't want to hurt you."

I nodded.

Louis' finger felt huge inside of me, it was not an unpleasant feeling, it felt a little odd and weird but I quickly became accustomed to it. He prepared me by following a slow pace, based on my breaths, sighs and noises, he took his time and I was thankful for that, we could not rush through that. Louis talked to me, he checked on me whenever he went deeper, whenever he moved faster or slower, he asked me if I was ready, if I thought I was actually ready to move forward and actively lose myself in the pleasure.

"Lou, please." I was close to the edge again, he was making it difficult for me to not come. "I can't last any longer if you keep touching me like this."

He laughed in my ear and kissed the back of my neck. "I didn't even find your sweet spot nor touched you." I huffed and rolled around, lying on my back. "Do you want to put the condom on me?" Louis asked while position himself between my legs, pulling me forward until my arse was lying on his lap.

I grabbed the condom and opened it, I stared at it for a moment before moving my hands down to Louis' cock. I had to sit up a little, which made our dicks rub together, he hissed and I did it again, it felt good and I wanted more, I wanted to touch him and take him until my legs were shaking because of what he made me feel. I stopped teasing him when he tightened his grip on my hips, he was hard and it was starting to look painful, too. I finally put the condom on him, I stroked his cock twice, I wanted to feel it in my hand.

"Harry." He warned me, his hips moved forward and I pressed my thumb on his tip. "Don't." I rotated my wrist and he dipped his head down, ending up lying on my chest. He looked tiny, small and mine. He was mine.

I had mercy on him and lubed him up until he told me to stop. I was starting to get very nervous and I did not know if I could actually take him inside me, was I capable of relaxing enough? Was I capable of letting him take the lead even though I was a little scared? I was not scared of him, I was scared of the pain, of letting him down. Was he going to be disappointed by me? Perhaps yes, perhaps no, I did not know that.

"Hey..." Louis was caressing my face with the back of his hand. "Are you sure?" He was looking at me with a sweet smile, his eyes were a little watery and he was flushed, his breath heavy and his forehead damp. He sweated a lot. I nodded, clinging to him and hiding his face in his neck. "Okay, tell me if it hurts too much."

Louis pushed into me slowly, he was slow and careful, he kept on kissing me and touching my cock while he filled me, inch after inch. It hurt. A lot. However I found it impossible to ask him to stop, I wanted him to continue and make me feel whole again, my body was vibrating with each movement and I could not have enough of him, my body could not be satiated until he bottomed out, even though I was tired and already sore, I needed him to keep going.

"Lou..." I found myself with my head thrown back and my back arched. He was fully inside, still. He kissed my neck and squeezed the base of my cock, his fingers grazed my balls and I moaned loudly.

"You're so beautiful, Harry." He whispered those words in my ear, he was out of breath and flustered, however, he was still gentle and caring. "God, you're driving me mad."

"Looney." We laughed and I sniffed, moving my hands to his back so that I could touch his pliant skin. "I think you can move, now." Louis nodded and kissed my lips with a small smile, he held a million promises in that kiss. "Move, Lou."

Louis started to thrust into me, he kept it slow and steady, he was not moaning in my ear, he was just looking at me. He was looking at me, he was studying my face and holding me down with a small smile on his face, he was appreciating me. Louis made me feel good, he was taking care of me and trying his best to not hurt me. He was gentle, I was not frightened because I knew what he was doing. Having his lips on me made my nipples stiff up, I was a little taken aback by it, that had never happened to me before.

We started to mumble each other's name on our lips, our kisses were all tongue and no coordination, he was fucking me for real now, his thrusts deep and a little faster than before. I wrapped my legs around his body and I dug my nails in his back, dragging my hands down and leaving my marks on him, I wanted to make my presence known. I loved how he treated me, how he worshipped my body with his caresses, bites and kisses, he was ruining my chest and neck with his hickeys.

"Lou- Lou, touch me." I was begging him now, I was feeling overwhelmed by how good I was feeling. I was losing myself yet I was founding who I was in that moment.

"Fuck, baby, I wish you could see what I see right now." He angled his hips differently and I screamed, my nails pressed deep into his skin. "Fuck, shit- fuck!"

"Very eloquent, Lou-ah!" He touched that spot again and I arched my back again, exposing myself even more to him. "Bloody hell, touch me..." I panted, voice rough and tired. I needed to come.

It happened all so quickly, Louis sped up a little, his forehead ended up on top of mine and he kissed me while stroking my cock. I bucked my hips up, I tried to meet his thrusts and I tried my best to not moan too loudly, I still had some kind of self-control. Louis tightened his grip on my hips and I moved my hands up to his neck, bringing him down so that I could kiss him. My legs were aching and shaking, I broke the kiss and came between us, making a mess on our chests while I twitched and tightened around him.

"God, Lou..." I was breathless and sore, I could barely move and Louis was still thrusting into me, this time it was shallow and out of pace. "Lou, come, please." I whispered while holding his face between my hands, I did not want to mark his back anymore. I had probably made a mess.

Louis pulled out of me almost completely, only the tip was left inside, I was confused for a brief second and then I ran out of breath when he slammed back into me, coming into the condom with his eyes squeezed shut and his lips pursed into a thin line. He pulled out of me after he rode out his orgasm, he ended up lying on top of me and I looked down at the mess that I had caused. I was achy, I was tired yet I wanted more, I wanted more and more. I wanted to feel Louis back inside me, I wanted him to break me again.

I tried to move but I winced, my legs had fallen asleep and my bottom was throbbing because of the pain. Louis had been gentle with me, though, I assumed it was normal. The pain was supposed to be there.

"Hi, Haz." Louis whispered while kissing my shoulder, he moved closer to me and pushed my hair off of my face. "Was it okay?" I nodded and I kissed his lips with a small sigh, toes still curled. "I'm going to run you a bath, love. We need to get you cleaned and we need to make your muscles relax a little."

"I can't move, Lou, you fucked my brains out." I giggled and Louis kissed me again. "I liked it, though. You made me feel good, so good."

We ended up in the bathtub after ten minutes, Louis had changed the sheets and prepared the bath, putting in whatever soap caught my eye; in the end, I settled for an orange and cinnamon soap, which ended up producing quite a lot of bubbles. Louis washed my hair, he kept on kissing my shoulders and the back of my neck, which made it hard for me to not yawn nor succumb to his soft touches. Louis was taking care of me, again, he was worshipping me with his soft lips and gentle hands, he made me feel whole and he made me feel proud, conscious who I was. I could not ask for anything better.

I kissed him languidly, not wanting to waste any time. My muscles were feeling better but I was still sore, Louis knew that and he treated me like a prince, drying my hair and my body with his fluffy towels. I ended up yawning while he blowdried my hair, rubbing my eyes furiously because I was too tired to function properly. Louis was pretty beat, too. He had been the one in charge, he had been the one who had to stay strong and make sure that everything was fine. We went back to bed after we were completely clean and dried up. I was excited to sleep next to Louis for the first time, we had never done that before.

"How do you feel?" He asked while I laid down, curling my toes when my arse touched the bed. I curled up next to him and he wrapped his arm around my body. "Are you in pain?"

"No, 'm just sore and very tired." Louis kissed my cheek and I rested my head on his shoulder, I started to rub his chest with my hand, yawning and hiding my mouth against his skin. "We're skipping dinner, too."

Louis chuckled and held me closer, he closed his eyes and I leaned in. "We'll have dinner once we wake up, now we need to rest. It has been a long day."

It had been, but it had also been the best day of my life so far. 


	4. 18, 27

The rest of the weeks went by rather easily, we took our time and we managed to get by without problems. We kept on having sex, not every night nor every day, we were intimate with each other and we took care of one another, soft lips and gentle hands. Louis adored me with his caresses, with his kisses and his loving eyes; he never treated sex like a thing that happened because of hormones or because we were two horny men, he treated sex like a ritual, like something he did and participated in when he wanted to prove a point to me, to himself, to us.

Louis kissed me with his eyes closed and his hands on my face, he would hold it in his palms and he would rub my cheeks with his thumbs. I liked how delicate he looked, I loved whenever he looked at me with sleepy eyes, ruby red lips and pink ears, it was a sight for sore eyes. In my opinion, waking up next to him was the best thing in the world, he always looked peaceful and quiet, I wanted to take a picture of him.

Our days progressed slower than before. We went to the beach almost every day - unless it rained - and I always brought my laptop with me, I wrote while Louis sunbathed and slept, it gave us peace. We were together, we did not talk, we just enjoyed one another's company while doing what we liked, Louis was supportive of what I wanted to do and he even listened to me whenever I rambled about possible plot points, developments and settings. Louis always smiled at me and kissed my head while I wrote scene after scene. He supported me.

Louis had also started to work on his novel, he had written down a quick summary of the plot he wanted to develop and he told me about it, about his characters and little synopsis about his novel while combing my hair; he still did that, every night. We would write together when it was rainy, we sat in his living room and wrote while music filled the silence, he had bought a record player during our first week together and he had placed it in the living room, right under the TV. We wrote and drank tea, I also looked at Louis once in a while, he had an adorable wrinkle between his eyebrows whenever he focused on something.

I was enjoying what I was doing, I was loving what I was writing and screenwriting came easily to me, it was a process that rolled out of my tongue and off of my hands without issues. It was familiar, comfortable, it allowed me to let go and empty my brain, to portray my emotions without being scared of disappointing someone. I could make a character say, or do, whatever I pleased, which allowed me to make my issues someone else's issues. It was refreshing, it was perfect and it felt natural, just natural and easy.

I knew that I had to tell my parents about what I wanted to do, I had to tell them what was going on through my head and I did not want to let them down. They were going to be disappointed in me, they were going to hate me because I had decided to "leave" our plan, my plan. I did not want to let them down, I did not want to be seen as the black sheep of the family, everyone in our family was successful, everyone was someone important. And there was me. Harry, the little one of the family, the one who allowed anyone to pilot his life.

I did not want Louis to hate me once he realized that I was not good, that I was a mere pawn in everyone's life. Even in Louis'.

My parents had sent me to Whitby in order to figure out what to do, they did not sent me there so that I could end up with Louis and with my mind settled on studying cinema and screenwriting. They were going to judge me, they were going to judge Louis too, I did not want them to hate him, I did not want them to look at him like he had ruined me. He had done nothing but support me, he had been the one to make me spiral, that's true, but he had also motivated his distaste in law. He had given me his opinion, but he had also allowed me to pick my own path.

Time was ticking away, we only had five days left together and I did not want to go back to Holmes Chapel, I did not want to worry about Uni, I did not want to go back to my parents' house. I was happy with Louis, his house was starting to feel mine, too. Louis had started to shape his life and house around me and I was doing the same, we were doing good together. We had not put a label on what we did together, however we were close and we liked whatever we had together, we did not have to label anything, we did not have to put ourselves in a box.

Louis always slept with me, I had moved into his bedroom after our first time together and I loved falling asleep in his arms. Louis was very cuddly, he stroked my cheeks as soon as I woke up, he kissed my lips and chest before I fell asleep and he complained whenever I had to get up to drink or use the bathroom. He said I was warm, he always ended up wrapped around me during the night; he also snored a little, but I did not mind. I had never slept with someone before Louis, however I was starting to enjoy it a lot, I was worried about how I was supposed to sleep once I got back to my parents' house. I did not have the distant lapping of waves in Holmes Chapel, I did not have the quiet AC humming in Holmes Chapel, I did not have the moonlight shining into my bedroom in Holmes Chapel, I did not have Louis in Holmes Chapel.

I was not looking forward to move back there.

"Harry?"

I turned around and looked at Louis, he was lying on his beach towel and he had his eyes closed. He had just woken up from his nap - at 10 am - and he was slightly red all over, had he put his sunscreen on? He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, he took his sunglasses from our bag and he stood up, hands on his hips. I stopped writing and closed my laptop, I did not know what was going through his head, perhaps he just wanted to catch my attention without a reason behind it. He walked toward me and then plopped down next to me, resting his hands on my back and his head on my shoulder.

"Come swimming with me." Louis murmured with his voice still sleepy and a little slurred. "You've been writing for two hours straight, aren't you tired?"

"No, Lou. I'm almost done, too." He perked up and looked at me, his skin was still warm because of the sun. "I mean, it's just a draft, but it's almost finished."

"Will you read it to me?"

"No, not now."

Louis nodded and he stood up again, he took my hand in his own and pulled me up on my feet, I guess we were going for a swim after all. The water was warm and Louis hugged me tight to his chest once we jumped in, we stayed glued together once we swam back up to the surface, he kissed me and I ended up with my hair messed up, tousled and all over the place; Louis ended up with semen in his trunks, but that was not a big deal since the seawater washed it all away. We played around in the water until our fingers pruned, our stomaches were also grumbling and our skin was getting irritated by the sun.

We showered together and Louis cooked us lunch, or at least he tried to, he was not good at cooking. We ate lunch while we watched the news, I kept on stealing food from Louis' plate and we were a little tipsy, we had exaggerated with the wine and the mimosas. We were getting looser as the time passed, we lounged around and we ended up wasting our afternoon kissing and fooling around on his couch; he smelled like orange juice and white wine, I had his perfume engraved in my brain by now.

Five days. Just five more days. I was starting to feel lost and alone, I did not want to go back to my parents' house, however I knew I had to, I had to prepare myself for college and I had to tell my parents my change of heart. They were going to ask questions, they were going to wonder what had made me flip, what or who made me think about switching major. Were they going to question Louis? Were they going to blame him? I did not want to cause any troubles between them, I did not want to ruin their friendship. What would I even tell them anyway?

"Lou, do you think I should tell my parents about us?" I whispered while lying down on top of him. "They don't- I'm not even sure they know about my sexuality."

Louis raised his head from the armrest and stroked my scalp slowly. "It's up to you. I do want to go out with you and live whatever we have between us under the sunlight, but I understand if you want to keep this private for now." He was still a little drunk but he was not slurring his words anymore. "Either way, it's fine."

"I don't want to go back to Holmes Chapel." Louis tightened his arms around me and I pressed my face in his neck. "I don't know how to tell them I want to study film, I don't know how to tell them I'm dating you, I just don't know."

"Are you scared?"

Was I? Was I scared of facing my parents or was I scared of facing reality? We had hidden from everyone and everything during those three weeks, we had created our own cocoon of perfection and now I did not know how to approach real life.

"Yes. I think so."

Louis kissed the top of my head and rested a hand on my back. "I think I'd be scared, too. I don't want you to get hurt, I might be selfish but I think that we should keep this relationship between us. For now at least." I looked at him and I nodded quietly. "Settle down in college first, get accustomed to it and then we'll go from there. You don't have to worry about me, I'm old and I'm an adult, I understand that you need time." He sighed and placed a hand on my cheek. "After all, time is all we have."

"I still don't want to leave." Louis chuckled and kissed my lips with a small smile, pushing my hair out of my face. "Manchester is so far away from here."

"I have a car." Louis kissed my cheek and I closed my eyes. "Plus, you won't have a lot of free time, you won't even notice that I'm not there."

"Don't sell yourself so short, I will miss you." He hummed quietly on my jawline and I gripped his shoulders. "These three weeks have been quite the ride for me, everything happened so quickly."   
"You hated me at first. We've known each other for months and you hated me at first."

"You were an utter twat."

Louis laughed and then quieted down. "Yeah, it was proper grim." He yawned and settled down on the armrest again. "What made you change your mind?"

"Our conversation about books, I think I've already told you. You let me and I got to know you, at least a little bit. I liked what I saw and I decided to go for it. You weren't my cup of tea at first, I don't like older men usually, and I thought you were off your trolley the first time I saw you."

Louis laughed and poked my hips. "It's because of my clothes, isn't it?" I nodded and Louis kissed my lips with a small sigh. "I wanted to leg it when I first met you."

We ended up teasing each other for the rest of the day, cuddling and pampering one another until we went to bed.

Five days went by and before I knew it I found myself packing my bags while Louis sat on the immaculate bed, we had not used it in a long time. I was putting away my t-shirts, my trousers, my pants and my bathing suits, I had washed them the day before and Louis had even turned on the drier for the first time in two months. My bags were almost filled up, I only had to put my shoes away and the new clothes I had bought in Whitby did not fit in the bags so I was bound to carry them into another bag, which Louis had gently given to me.

Louis stretched his legs with a yawn and rolled down on his back, he placed his arms under his head and I sat down beside him, kissing his stomach and lying my head on top of his sternum. We were getting closer and Louis was becoming more frantic and needy, he had never let me out of his sight during our last two days together. I was bound to leave the next day, Louis had not mentioned it once and he roamed around the house without letting out a sound. He was clingy and he followed me everywhere, I felt the same but I did not want to make the situation worse by voicing my own fears out loud.

Louis put his fingers in my hair and I closed my eyes, he was going to make me fall asleep and he knew that, it was almost as if he wanted to make me waste time. He started to run his fingers through my curls and I pressed my nose on his t-shirt, kissing him again while rubbing his lower stomach with my hand. He was still caring his fingers through my hair but I could tell that something was going on in his head, he wanted to do something but I did not know what.

"Sit up." Louis whispered sleepily.

"I'm comfortable like this, Lou." He pushed my head off of his lap and I grumpily sat up, he had his ways with me, he always managed to get what he wanted but so did I. "Can't we do this later? I have to put my laptop, books and toothbrush away."

"Later."

I tried to complain but Louis hugged me from behind, a hand right above my heart.

Later.

Louis ended up braiding my hair. He told me he had learnt it because he had five younger sisters, he had to do their hair before school and sometimes, when he was too tired, he braided the twins' hair at night and then put clips and various accessories in their braids in the morning. It made them happy, and Louis loved to see his sisters happy. I was starting to get to know him, I had gotten to know him during those three weeks and I wanted to stay there, I did not want to leave him alone and I did not want to be alone either.

I had found myself in Whitby.

And so had Louis.

He massaged my scalp before separating my hair in two big sections, my hair was a little longer than usual but I loved it, I thought it gave me character and it made me feel comfortable. Louis kissed my shoulder after he finished the first dutch braid, I let my head fall back and Louis kissed my jawline, which was soft and not as sharp at Louis'. He had a great bone structure, he had sharp cheekbones and I liked to run my fingers down them, dipping my knuckles in the hollow of his cheeks. His skin was soft, spotless, it felt good under my fingertips.

While Louis braided the second section, I fixed the laces of his Vans, which he had kicked off of his feet before jumping on the bed. We had gone shopping that morning, I had bought my mother a new scarf and a pair of gloves, I opted for a new pair of sunglasses for my father and I ended up buying a lipstick for my sister. I would have to send it to her via mail but I knew she would appreciate it. Gemma loved bright lipsticks, when she was eight years old, she used to wear them around the house while our parents were at work. She would go into my mother's bathroom, roam around her beauty case and pick the brightest and tackiest lipsticks ever; she would also put them on me, I was a science project for her.

I went to sleep with my hair still braided, Louis told me I reminded him of his youngest sister. I kissed him until I ran out of breath, I kissed him while he gripped my hips in a tight and possessive way, it seemed like he was scared to see me disappear from his bed. I kissed him and held him to my chest, we had reversed the roles and, for once, Louis looked small, tiny and vulnerable, he was younger than me in that situation, more scared than me, too.

It struck me there. Louis was mine and I was his.

"Lou?" He raised his head from my chest and I held his face between my hands. "Make love to me, yeah?"

It was slow, Louis put himself in it and so did I. We took care of each other and we touched one another with shaky fingers and trembling hands, we were scared of breaking our bubble. Louis was quiet, I let out a moan or two, we both wanted to focus on what we felt in that moment, on the act on itself, we did not want to rush or overshadow the sensations we felt while making love. It was not passion driven, it was not crazy and quick and lustful. It was filled with unsaid words, unsaid thoughts, tenderness and longing.

We were already missing each other.

I woke up with Louis still on top of me, he was awake and he was looking out of the window. We did not talk, we had nothing to say. I was on the verge of tears, I was crumbling again under the weight of my life. Louis was becoming my safe place and I did not want to leave him, I did not want to go away and start again. I did not want to say goodbye. He kissed me softly on the lips after we had breakfast, my parents were bound to arrive at 10 am, we only had thirty minutes left.

Louis held me tight to his chest and I squeezed my eyes shut, my parents were there, in his driveway. I kissed him again, I bit his lower lip and pressed myself closer, closer, closer, I needed to feel his heartbeat right against my own. He crushed me in a hug, a goodbye hug, and he kissed me again, a silent promise that this was not over.

My parents were happy to see me again, and so was I. They loved the gifts and they thanked Louis with a pat on the shoulder and a hug. Nothing more, nothing less. I did not hug him nor touch him before getting into the car, it would be too painful for me and him, I did not want to break, I did not want to look weak in front of my parents.

It was never going to be over. We did not say goodbye, we did not part ways with tears in our eyes and anger in our bones, we just parted and promised to see one another again. Perhaps in three months, perhaps in a matter of weeks, I did not matter. I knew we were tied together, we were bound to find each other again.


	5. 18, 27

My parents took my change of major better than I expected. They were surprised but not disappointed, they were expecting that. Their support freaked me out a little but I did appreciate it, it felt good and I felt less alone, less sad. They did not understand why I wanted to study screenwriting but they supported me; I suspected that they did because the courses would be paid by my scholarship. They asked me how I managed to figure out that law was not my thing, they asked me if Louis played a part in it, if he had talked to me about the future and about the university.

I did not lie when I told them that no, Louis did not ask me about uni and that he had nothing to do with my change of heart. They seemed pleased by my answer, I could sense that they were worried about Louis' influence in my life, perhaps they thought that, now that he had left his job, he was going to act like a slob. He was not, he was still a hard-working person, he had morals and he had goals he wanted to reach. I was curious to see what would come out of his book project, the plot was interesting and he was working hard on it.

Louis was still in mind, he was always on my mind. We texted every day and we called each other at least twice a week, we kept in contact via letters too. He told me about his days, about his progress and about his writer block, which struck him in the middle of August while I was getting ready for Uni. I wanted to call him and tell him that it was going to be okay, that he was going to figure out what to do with each character, however, I did not find the time to call him and calm him down. I felt guilty afterwards.

I kept on writing screenplays during my free time, I kept sharing my progress with Louis via quick pictures and text. He always answered with his opinion or a compliment, he did give me constructional criticism and I did the same, it was needed if we wanted to grow and be successful, happy. Louis made me happy. He understood me and he listened to me ramble about nothing for hours, he never complained. More than once we had fallen asleep while talking to the phone, it was calming to hear him breathe quietly through the call.

We FaceTimed, too. We did it sporadically but I always begged him to pick up my call when my parents went out for the night. We looked at each other, we worked and talked, it was like when I was in Whitby, the only thing that was missing were Louis' kisses and caresses.

Whitby was still engraved in my brain, I missed it and I wanted to go back there every time Louis mentioned it. He had bought a new tree, this time it was a cherry tree, he wanted to have fresh fruit and he did not want to waste his money on something he could easily grow in his garden. Louis was starting to learn how to cook, I gave him lessons while my parents were away and he ended up cooking a delicious, and surprisingly good looking, casserole. From that point on, Louis started to look into quick yet mouthwatering receipts.

I was bound to leave for university in September, I talked about that to Louis and he reassured me that it was going to be okay. I did want to start a new life chapter, however, I was still scared of disappointing my parents, and my professors, too. I did not know anyone in Manchester and I was pretty sure I was going to end up hating it, I was going to end up alone and sad. Louis was far away from me, I was going to be by myself. I was also scared of meeting my roommate, I was bound to have one and that thought made me want to puke, I did not cope well around people, around strangers.

Gemma had loved her roommate in university, they were still friends and they still hung out after years of finishing their studies. Was I going to get that? Perhaps not. I was not sure, I did not know what was going to come out of my life. I talked to Gemma about my fears, she reassured me through the phone and we quickly dropped the matter after we started to playfully argue about my room. I liked her, she was a good sister and she tried her best to be around and listen to me, we were not similar but we tried, we tried to look after one another.

I still had a week before I was bound to move to Manchester, my parents were already making me pack my belongings and I tried to do it as fast as I could. It was a boring task and not even music made it bearable. I had to fold and pack my Winter, Autumn and Spring clothes, I had to pack some of my books, my personal belongings and my mother had forced me to take two comforters with me, just in case I got cold during Winter. I did not know how the dorms looked like, I did not know if I was going to meet my roommate on my first few hours there, I just knew that Manchester was cold and that my mother was scared of me being sick. It was not a pointless fear, I was always sick when the temperatures dropped, asthma did not make it better either. Sometimes I could not breathe and that triggered an attack. I did not want to have an asthma attack at university.

Louis sent me a text on a Saturday morning that worried me. He told me he needed me, he did.

I called him as soon as my parents left, they had to attend a dinner party a friend of theirs thew, I was interested and I told them I had a headache, which was a lie but they did not need to know that for now.

"Lou?"

"Hey." His voice was low and gruff, had he cried? I was not sure. "Sorry for bothering you."

"You never bother me, you know that." It was hot in my room, it had been a sunny day and my bedsheets were still warm. They were stuck to my body and I was already sweating. "What's wrong?"

Louis sighed and cleared his throat. "I miss you." It broke my heart, his voice was small and tiny and it felt like Louis was lost, like he was drifting away from me. "I miss you so much and I don't even know how to deal with it, you know? I've not been in a relationship in a long time and I don't know how to deal with this shit."

"I miss you, too. I wish I could be there with you." Louis chuckled and hummed quietly, I could tell that he was a little tired already. "You're going to visit me once I settle down in Uni? It's going to be a little messy but you're messier. I still have nightmares about your closet." He laughed, it warmed my heart. "Those socks, Lou. Did you wash them after I left?"

"I did, yeah." He cleared his throat and I put him on speaker. "Listen, I was thinking I could stay in a hotel when I come to visit you, nothing fancy, I promise, but it could be fun, right? We could have a date and then spend the night together." I hummed and Louis sighed. "I haven't been to Manchester in a while, it could be fun, yeah? I mean we can just roam around while you tell me about uni. Did you already sign up?"

"Yeah, I did." I rubbed my eyes and looked at my hands. "Lou, are you okay?"

He stayed quiet for a little while. "No."

"Do you want to FaceTime?"

"Yeah."

I placed my phone on my nightstand, I had created a tiny phone stand that could hold it in place so that I could easily FaceTime Louis, that way I could lie down and talk to him without having to hold my phone in my hands. Louis picked up immediately as soon as I called him back, he looked tired and his hair was tousled, yet I had a feeling it always looked like that. Louis smiled at me and I blew him a kiss. It was corny, we knew that, but it was ours and it felt cute, Louis blew one back. We looked at each other for a few seconds and I leaned closer to the phone, I subconsciously thought I could reach him like that.

"Hey, beautiful." He always said that when we FaceTimed.

"Cut the crap. What's wrong?" I rested my head on the pillow and Louis smiled at me. "You look tired, is everything okay?"

Louis shook his head, looked so lonely in that big house. "I told you I miss you, but it's weird. I can't stop thinking about you and it hurts so much. I promise I've never been this clingy before, I'm grown-ass adult, Harry. But I miss you, I miss you a lot and I don't understand why I feel like this. I wish I could just... I don't know." He sighed and I nodded quietly. "I want to make sure we're okay and I want to be there with you because you're stressed. I don't know, I want to stay by your side and make you happy."

"Lou, you don't have to worry about me this much." I sighed and leaned closer to the screen once again. "I think you should... we should try and just be happy. We're not in two different continents, I'm just going to uni, it's going to be okay, yeah? We're both nervous for some fucking reason that I don't know and I don't even want to know. But I am happy, Lou."

"I think I'm worried you're going to find a younger guy in uni, someone who's close to you and that you can have whenever you want. It's not easy, even if it's only an hour away and we can see each other when we want, it's still far. We can make it work, sure, but I'm older and I can deal with seeing the person I am with on some occasion, at least I think I can do it. You're young, though, you deserve to live and experience a relationship with someone who's there, physically there." I did not like where our conversation was going, it felt like a breakup talk. "I don't want to take that away from you."

"You're not taking away shit from me. I don't understand why you're so scared, I don't understand why you can't believe in us. I do believe in this relationship and I want it to work, do you feel the same?"

Louis stared at me. "I do."

"Then we have nothing to worry about. Yeah, okay, I'm in Manchester and you're in Whitby but it's not like we can't see each other. We'll just have to work for it and make sure that we're on the same page, always." He nodded and I ran a hand through my hair. "By the way, I liked the idea of staying in a hotel room with you."

Louis laughed and I shifted around in the bed, I was not sweating anymore, which was an improvement from the night before. "I like it, too. You can also come here when you can, there's always room for you."

"I know, Lou."

The week of my departure arrived sooner than I expected. I found myself in my parents' car, my suitcases badly placed in the trunk and my lighter bags on the backseats with me. I was excited to start university, I was excited to start working, too. Over the weeks I had sent a few curriculum vitae around shops and facilities that were looking for a part-time employer, a record store had called me back and we had scheduled an interview online; two days later, I was an employee. The pay was decent, I could save some money and use the other to buy things I wanted or travel. 

The journey was not that long and I found it pleasant, perhaps it was the knowledge that I was going to part ways from my parents, perhaps it was the fact that I was going to start my own life soon. I could not wait any longer, I was excited and I was happy to start a new chapter of my life. University, my degree, those were the things that interested me and made me want to keep pushing forward, to keep trying. School and learning had always fascinated me, I was a mediocre student, that was indeed true, but I knew that I could apply myself and do better than before.

The campus was nice, I liked it and I liked my dorm, too. My parents helped me settle down and then they left, my mother kissed me on the cheeks and my father hugged me. Gemma sent me a text message, telling me to keep her updated and, if I needed anything, I could call her since she lived close to Manchester.

My roommate did not show up until late in the afternoon. He seemed decent, he was quiet and he barely talked to me, yet he was not someone unpleasant to be around. He kept to himself, and that was okay. I tended to do the same anyway. His name was Zayn, he told me he studied visual arts and he was a freshman, too; he was from Bradford. He had brought with him a few clothes, a few personal items, I felt like I had overfilled my suitcases when I noticed the four pair of jeans and the dozen of shirts and t-shirts he had lying around on his bed.

Louis called me that night, he asked me if I liked my dorm, my roommate and if I had had the chance of looking around the school. He was interested in my day, I could tell it from his voice, however, he was also slightly worried and he was trying his best to hold back and not look after me like a parent. He told me to call him if I needed anything, he also told me that he was going to book a room in a hotel for the following week, that way I would not be too busy with my classes. I liked that he thought of that, it made me feel important.

Zayn received a call, too. He disappeared from the room and I wondered who he was chatting with, he stayed outside for at least thirty minutes, I could hear him laugh here and there. I thought he was very cute, he had the looks and I was sure he knew it, too; his hair was really dark and so were his eyes, but they complimented his skin and his solid cheekbones and jawline. He did not look eighteen years old, he looked older, he looked like a man. He reminded me of the first time I saw Louis, they both looked older and sadder than they actually were; perhaps I was wrong about Zayn, I did not even know him and it was not like he talked a lot, to begin with.

My first week went by in a heartbeat. My classes were interesting, my teachers were great people and my classmates seemed okay, I talked to some of them between classes and I found out that I shared a lot of things with the majority of them. It was refreshing, it was new and exciting, I liked it and, for once, I felt like I belonged there. I knew from the get-go that I had picked the right course, that I had made the right choice. I was not going to fail it, I was not going to regret it, I was going to be a successful student with a bright career ahead.

I settled into a routine in a slow but steady way. I went to classes, had lunch and then went to the record store, I worked until closing time and then I had dinner; I had some free time and I had some spare hours that I could dedicate to studying, which I was already doing since I did not want to fail. I was motivated, energetic and ready, I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. I was satisfied and I was growing up, I was becoming a man and I was drifting away from the plan my parents had made for me. I was becoming my own person. I was not scared of myself anymore, I was not an actor. I was me, Harry.

I stayed away from the welcome party that a bunch of older students threw on my second Friday in university, I was not in the mood and I was tired, yet excited. Louis was bound to arrive on the early hours of Saturday and I had begged him to come and get me as soon as he stepped into Manchester, he had said that I was crazy since he was going to arrive around 8 am, I did not care. I wanted to be with him and I wanted to spend two full days by his side, we only had until Sunday evening, after all, we did not have a lot of time.

Louis arrived at 8 am sharp, I suspected he had already stopped by the hotel since there was not a bag in his car, there was a nicely wrapped present, though. I unboxed it while having breakfast in a small coffee shop, we had decided to stop there because it looked intimate, hidden from curious eyes and ours; it was empty, we were the only costumers there. We had overdone it, as usual, and our table was covered in tiny plates and napkins, two empty mugs were in front of us and our stomachs were sated.

"A leather-bound journal." I took it out of the box and opened it, smiling at Louis. "I can write my ideas here."

He nodded. "Yeah, you can also put pictures, drawings and whatever floats your boat in it, there's a tape, both plain and decorated, coloured pens and gel pens at the bottom of the box."

"I love it, thank you so much." I left a kiss on his hand and leaned into the warmth of his palm, I had missed him so much. "I can't wait to fill it with all the silly things we'll do."

"We?" I nodded and Louis brushed his thumb over my cheekbone. "I'd like that, yeah."

"How are you, Lou?" He looked fine, not good, fine. I could tell that he had not slept in a while, he had dark circles around his eyes and his face was hollow, again, which meant that he was not taking proper care of himself. Sometimes he could be a mess.

"Been better. I've found an agent and we have scheduled my release date." He yawned and I caressed his hand once more. "Next August, but I have to turn it around January, so they can edit it and... whatever they do with books. I don't know. I just write."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I whispered while he took a bite out of his chocolate-filled croissant.

"Surprise?" I glared at him and he rubbed a hand over his face. "It slipped my mind, I wanted to tell you but I forgot..."

I knew he did, it was something that happened a lot with him. "Have you slept in the last week?"

"Yeah, kind of. Five or four hours per night, it's okay though, I'm almost finished with the draft." Lies, lies, lies, I knew him and I knew that he was going to start sleeping less and less until he handed that damn book in. "I'm okay."

I eyed him and he smiled at me. "I want to spend the day in bed with you." I leaned forward while talking, keeping my eyes on him while I spelt out what I wanted to do. Louis did not react, he just stared at me with wide eyes. "We could sleep, have sex, cuddle, sleep some more and order some takeaway and have it delivered to the hotel."

"Can we even do that, the takeaway part I mean."

"I don't know, we'll figure it out." Louis was thinking about it, it was just what I needed. "Please? It'll be fun."

We left the coffee shop hand in hand, I paid and Louis fussed over it, telling me that he was going to pay for dinner and lunch. I let him believe that it was better than starting an argument over it in the middle of the streets. We had to walk a little to the room he had booked, it was close to my campus and we had left his car in a free parking space, which was a kilometre away from the hotel. It was starting to get chilly outside but it was pleasant, the humidity made it better somehow and we could walk hand in hand without ending up with sweaty palms.

The room was not big, just a double, but Louis' bag in the corner, his toothbrush already on the bathroom sink and his favourite pair of slipper by the closet made the tiny, yet suitable, room perfect for us. We undressed in silence and we took turns in the bathroom, I waited for him on the bed with a t-shirt on. I had bought a change of clothes with me, just in case we wanted to leave the room and roam around town. I was not in the mood, though, and I thought that Louis was too tired to even _try_ to walk around.

Louis fell asleep as soon as I wrapped my arms around his chest.

We woke up again around 1 pm, it was starting to rain outside and Louis was snuggling up to me, his face hidden in my neck and his lips pressed on my shoulder. I loved these moments of calm, nothing could be heard, just our breaths and the soft tickling of the rain on the window. Louis was warm against my touch, his skin was pliant and it wonderfully dipped under the pressure I applied with my thumb. I wished we could always stay like that, just us, covered in a sheer blanket while the world outside kept on moving forward.

We deserved some peace, we deserved to live how we wanted and we deserved to be happy. Louis was overworking himself and the thought of him, in a big and empty house, made my heart ache; he was lonely and he was far away from me. Louis was my safe space and I wished I could provide him with comfort, with love and admiration whenever he needed it, however, he was in Whitby and he still rarely talked to me. He kept his emotions hidden and he kept them away from me, he tried his best to not let me see how tired, stressed and sad he was.

It was painful sometimes.

Louis woke up with a gurgling stomach and I laughed, he seemed younger than me with his lips contracted in a pout and his eyes still thick with sleep. We talked about what we wanted to eat for lunch, Louis' voice was hoarse and gruff - lower than usual, too - and I was suspecting that it was not just because he had woken up a few minutes before. I suspected he was coming down with a cold, I knew he liked to let his hair dry up on its own and, now that the temperatures were getting colder, that was not something smart to do.

I got dressed and Louis put on a pair of sweatpants and a loose hoodie, his hair was still sticking up in every possible direction but he did not care, he was too hungry to waste time making himself look presentable. We headed down to the nearby supermarket, we bought two sandwiches and two bags of crisps, Coke and some fresh fruit; it was not a gourmet lunch but it was enough for us, it was what we liked and we had never been focused on going on luxurious dates, our company was enough. We liked to eat in bed and leave crumbs all over the bedsheets, it was our way of hanging out.

"Turn the telly on." Louis murmured while cutting up my apple. I was not good at it, he was phenomenal, though.

"News?" He nodded and sliced my apple in four large pieces. "Or a film?"

"Whatever catches your eye, love." He cut up those four pieces into smaller ones and I smiled at him, setting the TV on a news channel. "What do you want to do after we finish eating?"

"Cuddles." I did not have to think about it, I had missed his touch and I had missed his lips on my body, I wanted him to make me feel good and whole again. "And perhaps something else, but only if we're in the mood."

"You want to top this time?" He wiped his hands with a napkin and smiled at me.

"Next time."

We finished lunch and we left the TV on while we cuddled and kissed, there was no rush in our movements and we were just taking each other in, we were reminiscing of our last days together in Whitby while, at the same time, creating new memories that I wished I could photograph. I did not want to lose a single moment with Louis, I did not want to see him slip out of my fingers. I wanted him to stay there with me forever, in our messy bed with our hands tied together. I wanted him to hold me, cherish me and shield me during cold nights and scary evenings where I was too tired to fall asleep.

I wanted Louis to stay in my life, that realization hit me square in the guts after he softly enveloped me with his arms and legs. I had grown over the last couple of weeks, I was taller than him now and I was getting a little buffer, too, I was not a scrawny kid, I was starting to look like a man. My hair had also gotten longer, not that Louis minded, he liked to play with it and having his fingers on my scalp was relaxing. Louis was shorter now, I could look down at him and see him try his best to appear manly and tough, even though he was rather short and tiny; his personality compensated it, though.

Louis was a bright star in my life, I was getting used to having him around and I was getting used to kissing him whenever we saw each other. I was happy when he was with me, I was happy to have him with me even for a short amount of time, I wanted him to stay there forever. Louis made me feel good, he made me feel carefree and light, we had found each other at the right moment in life and I did not want to let him go. We had been together for two months, yet it felt like a lifetime to me, which was scary.

I had never formed such a profound and unique bond with someone before. I had liked men, I had liked guys, I had shared kisses and quick hand jobs here and there with whoever I was hanging out with, but I had never been emotionally invested into someone, I had never had the feeling of longing rooted into my chest, I had never looked at someone and thought that I wanted to stay by their side forever. Louis had been my first under a lot of different aspects, I was not regretting any of it and I wondered if, deep down, he knew how much he meant to me.

"I want to come to Whitby next month." I whispered in his ear, Louis had his eyes closed and a sated smile on his face. "I want to come to Whitby and make love to you."

He laughed and brushed a hand down my face, his knuckles were cold against my warm cheeks. "I'd like that, tell me when you want to come around and I'll be there." He kissed me and I held him tight on my chest. "Won't your parents ask you why you'll want to visit me?"

"I don't care, I just miss Whitby and I want to visit you again."

"What will you tell them?"

"That I miss you. I don't want to hide things." He nodded and I smiled at him. "Would you be okay with that?"

"Yeah, I guess so, I mean you're an adult and we're together because we both want it, we have nothing to hide." He sighed and I kissed his chin, leaning forward until our foreheads met. "Your mum's going to skin me alive if anything goes wrong."

I laughed and rubbed our noses together. "Nothing will go wrong, Lou. We'll do okay, we'll just have to take one step at a time."

Louis looked nervous and unsure, it made me nervous. He nodded and placed a hand on my hip, softly kissing my forehead. 


	6. 18, 27

Things spiralled down. They did not go okay, they did not turn around and settled themselves after a rough patch. Rough patches became tough months and I could not deal with them, I could not face my everyday life without feeling like pure filth. University was not that difficult but it was not easy either, it was something that I had to work on and I was dedicated to it, I had thrown myself into it as soon as it had started. The only negative part of it all, it was the fact that I got tired quite easily, I slept a little too much and I found myself stuck in a cycle where I could not study for more than two hours a day.

I never had time, never had a moment for myself and I had also started to attend parties because I felt lonely. Louis was in Whitby and Zayn had a boyfriend that treated him like a prince. It was not fair, it made me feel lonely and useless. I had attended a party a week after Louis left, it was a small gathering that a friend from one of my classes threw; he had invited me and I had said yes, I did not tell Louis I was attending it, he did not need to know that.

It had been a mistake.

I had found myself in a room filled with sweaty people, alcohol was thrown around without a care and so were drugs. I stayed away from them at first, I was scared and I was reluctant to approach the table where they were displayed, it was not my gig and I was sure of that. I had never had any interest in drugs, I liked to drink but it ended there, I was not that interested in getting high and do some stupid shit. I had tried weed, but that was it. Weed was okay, it was okay and it did not do a thing for me, however, I did smoke it once or twice.

That first party ended up being a flop for me, I did not like it and I did not like the music, the drinks or the people around me. When the same guy from my class invited me to another one, I said yes. I attended another party and this time I allowed myself to get loose and have fun, I talked to people I had never met before, I befriended two guys and I ended up plastered on a couch with my mind completely clouded and my hands on my phone. I called Louis and rambled to him for fifteen minutes, he was understanding and he made sure to check on me the following day.

I picked up the habit of attending parties on the weekend, Louis was busy and he could not visit me until November, which was a bummer and I was not okay with it, I missed him a lot and he missed him, too, however, we were both busy.

I partied on Saturdays and recovered on Sundays, it was a routine that I liked and it felt good, I did not mind it one bit and I found myself with my mind occupied with something pleasant. My relationship with the university was not getting better, it was still a struggle for me to study and find the time - I either slept or studied - and I was lost, I did not know what to, I did not know how to make myself stay awake and study, focus on something for a long amount of time.

I tried Adderall in October, I did not like it and it made me antsy and jittery, it did not do the trick for me, it just made me less hungry. Then, in mid-October, I was introduced to cocaine. It was a mistake, I was not supposed to see it nor try it, but Sam - the bloke from my class - had bought some from one of his childhood friends and he had brought it to the party. He offered a line to me after I had caught him cut it, I was hesitant at first, it was scary and I knew what would happen to me if I used it, however, I found myself saying yes, a loud and heartfelt yes.

It was unbelievable, it was something that I had never felt before, the rush of energy, the power I felt in my hands, I was invincible. I was high yet I felt good, I felt better than ever and I was happy, I was truly happy and I could not put down that thrill of adrenaline and energy that made my whole body shiver. I acted normally, it did not make me behave like a crazy person - films portrayed it wrong - and I was still myself, I was still Harry, but I was better than before, I was on top of the world and no one could bring me down from that summit.

Well, after the initial buzz disappeared, I crashed down - hard.

I entered a cycle of depression, I did not leave my bed for two whole days and Zayn even called Louis - he had gotten his number after I had started attending parties regularly, just in case something happened -, nothing worked though. Nothing worked until I dragged myself to class on a cold Wednesday, I was still nauseous and on edge but I knew that I could not miss another day of classes. Sam was there, he was looking at me with a knowing smile and I found my hands tingling, I wanted to punch him.

"How're you feeling?" He asked while we walked toward our class, he had his blonde hair pushed back and his hands in his jeans' pockets. "You should come to the bathroom with me, before class. I might have something for you."

"What?" I wrapped my arms around my body, it was very cold outside and my coat did little to protect me. "I don't want to feel like this again tomorrow."

"We might be able to avoid it, yeah? We just have to... find a way, Harry." He was smiling at me, his sunglasses low on his nose. "I'll even give you a discount."

"How much will it be?"

"Let's say fifty quid a week and I'll give you a good deal."

"I'm not an addict. I don't want it." He stopped walking and I did the same, facing away from him. "If you offer it to me at a party, sure, I'll take it, but it ends there. I'm not going to become addicted to it. I'm better than that."

"Suit yourself, Styles."

I took it again at the following party. It was an urge that I could not scratch and it felt good, I felt productive and I even found the time to study on Sunday, still high and hypersensitive. There were some side effects to my seldom use of cocaine, sure, but it was nothing that I could not control and deal with. The crash after the immediate sense of happiness I felt was the worst, I was barely able to function with intense nausea, headaches, convulsions that I sometimes experienced and anxiety, they were the worst side effects ever but it was worth it. I had managed to study and memorize two chapters in less than a day. No one had noticed: Zayn was at Liam's - his boyfriend of two years - place and Louis was in Whitby, working his arse off for a book he believed in.

I was in university, studying art critique and psychology in order to create a good character and a good movie. I was useless, I had always been useless, however, coke made me feel someone, it made me feel important.

I tried to push the cravings away, I spent the entirety of Halloween hidden in my dorm with a buzzing head and a cold sweat. I had taken three lines the day before - a gift from Sam - and now I was coming down harder than ever. It was unbearable and I thought I was seeing and hearing things, it was scary and I knew that the only way I could make it stop was by stopping by at Sam's room and accept the deal, accept the fact that I did indeed need it. I needed it because it made me feel good, my grades depended on it and my future depended on my grades. I had to do good if I wanted to get a degree and become someone.

I had to become someone.

University had been the right choice for me, I had picked the right course and I had to do good, I had to. I was going to need a little help from a hard drug, okay, but no one had to know that. I could get cleaned after getting my degree. Sam was doing the same, too, he was always high and he was always taking something or shooting some up his veins, yet he was okay, he was doing fine in class and I could do the same, I could be even better than him. I had to perfect and coke helped, it stabilized me and I knew that I could do and achieve so much if I just applied myself; cocaine helped, it made me feel awake and I could focus when I was high.

The walk to Sam's room was slow, I was trembling too much and I kept seeing things, I kept hearing things and I had to stop once or twice just to check if I was truly alone, if someone was following me. It was all in my head, it was a side effect, it was not real. I pushed through the cold wind and reached Sam's door, it was far away from mine and walking in the rain did not help my already fucked upstate. I took the stairs to his room, I thought while taking each step, one at a time. I was spiralling, I was behaving like an addict and less than a month before I had proudly said that I was not one.

I still thought that I was not, I just needed the extra help.

I wondered what Louis would think of me, I wondered how I was even supposed to act around him. He knew me too well, he was going to figure me out and I could not afford that, I could not have him taking away what I was working so hard on. I had to keep it a secret, from him, from Zayn and from my family. No one was supposed to know, no one was going to know; I was good at hiding, I was good at creating false lives. I did not want to disappoint Louis, I did not want to let my family down, I did not want to make them hate me, which meant that I had to succeed and be successful, I had to do it.

Sam was not surprised, he let me into his room with a smug smile on his face. He knew what he was doing, he knew what he had done to me. He made me sit on the messy bed and I took off my coat, I was still shivering and my hands were shaking, I was in a bad shape and it was all his fault. He had offered me three lines instead of one, he had offered me the deal, he had shown me that I could easily be at the top by snorting whatever he bought from his childhood friend.

"Shaky?" Sam was a smug bastard, he had a smirk on his ugly mug and I stared at him. "I guess you're also hallucinating?" I did not answer, my jaw was too tense. "So, about that deal, are you in? I'll be even more generous than before, let's do forty quid a week."

"Okay."

"That's good."

I had just signed my life away but I was not aware of that. I paid Sam and he gave me my dose, I felt dirty while walking back to my dorm, the little bag was heavy in my pocket and I was struggling to not touch it, to not fumble with it while walking back to my room. What were people going to think of me? I did not want anyone to find out, I did not want to tell anyone. It was a secret and I had to keep it hidden from everyone forever. I told myself, over and over again, that after getting my degree, after becoming someone, I was going to stop, I was going to get completely clean. I was not addicted, I was not a bad person and I was not weak, I was just desperate to prove to myself - and to others, but that was not important - that I could be successful.

Everything was slipping out of my solid grip, I was losing control and I realized it when I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. I had been using for three weeks straight, I was out of a hundred and twenty pounds and I was deteriorating under my own eyes, which were always blown and dilated. Zayn was looking at me in a funny yet condescending way, he studied me while he was in our room and I knew that he was talking about me with Liam, I knew that. He never talked, he never asked, he just watched my every move with a sour look on his face.

I was not doing as good as I thought I would. Louis was getting worried, too, especially after we FaceTimed on a Friday. I had tried to sober up before seeing him, but I failed and ended up snorting a thin line a few minutes before our scheduled call. It kicked in while we were talking and he stayed quiet while I rambled and moved around the room, my hands were trembling - like always - and my pupils were dilated, it felt like I had bugs under my skin and I kept on scratching my arms while talking to him.

I cam down harsher than usual on Saturday and I went to Sam for my weekly dose, which I ended up using in his dorm. My mood was unstable, the hallucinations did not get better and neither did my shaky limbs, I looked unwell and I felt unwell, I was not myself anymore. Everything was crumbling down, I was not doing okay in class and I was too jittery to sit properly for more than three hours; it was a nightmare. I had tried to stop, I had tried to push the cravings away, but the nausea was too strong and I was never hungry, I was never tired.

I knew everyone looked at me, I knew they were studying my every move and I was sure that Louis and Zayn were keeping tabs on me, they were spying me. I was not paranoid, I was not imagining things, I knew they were nosing around in my life and I knew they were going to get burnt sooner than later. Everyone judged me, everyone looked at me in class and I could feel their eyes on my back and on my hands, they were just too curious and that irritated me. I was not a circus' attraction, I was a human being and I wanted, needed respect.

More than once I had found myself biting my tongue, a snarky and violent remark ready to leave my lips, sometimes I also felt sudden anger and annoyance run through my veins, which lead me to lash out. I was also always sweating, rooms and classrooms always seemed on fire to me and I ended up wearing a thin sweater in November.

It was already November, the time had flown by and I had not even realized it. I was losing track of time, I was losing time and I was losing myself, too. I had had to push Louis' visit away because I was not ready to see him yet, I was not ready to have his judgmental stare on me. I wanted to see him, I missed him and I wanted to crawl on his lap and pretend that everything was okay, that I was not spiralling faster and faster as the day passed. I missed Louis, I missed his kisses and I missed his body.

He was busy with his book and he had told me that finding time to come to Manchester was hard, but he had tried and he had found a free weekend, however, I had told him that I had to work. It was a lie. I still had a job, I still worked part-time at the record store but it was getting tougher, I was not as good as before, I was not as focused and I was barely able to help costumers around. I did try my best, I did, and I knew that I tried hard just because I knew that it would feed my cravings. Without that job, I could not afford to spend a hundred and eighty pounds a month on cocaine.

Sam was getting bolder, too, I knew for a fact that he was slowly reducing my dose, I knew. He was scamming me, he was taking my money without holding his end of the bargain. I had faced him, I had screamed at him and even attacked him, I had risked my whole career by punching him and threatening him. I had never been violent, but Sam was toying with me and I had had it with him and his antics. I scared him, I scared him when I almost choked him just because he was refusing to admit the truth; after our fight, the doses went back to normal.

I was not recognizing myself anymore, I was not who I used to be. No one had noticed it, no one had caught that drastic change. I was glad about it.

"I'm thinking about Christmas, maybe you could come over on New Year's Eve," Louis said while blowing on his ramen noodles. He had called me at 9 pm, he was having dinner after spending his whole day writing. "It'd be fun, yeah?"

"Oh? Yes, sure. I'll come there."

Louis smiled and stared at me. "Are you going to tell your parents about us?"

"Maybe, I don't know. Probably, since I'll be having Christmas with them and then come to Whitby. They'll have questions and I don't feel like lying to them." I was trying my best to not tighten my jaw, I was trying my best to stay put and not fidget. It was tough. "Yeah, when should I come there?"

"On the 27th?" I nodded and Louis smiled. "I wish I could spend my birthday with you." He sighed and took another bite of his food. "Anyway, how's uni?"

I shrugged and Louis glanced at me, his beard was growing and so was his hair. "It's fine, nothing crazy. I have exams in December and then I'm free, yeah, yeah, it's going okay." Louis hummed quietly and put his bowl away. "And I already bought you a birthday and Christmas present, I wrapped them myself."

"What did you buy?"

"I won't tell you." He rolled his eyes and placed a hand under his chin. "How's it going with the book?"

"I finished it, I'm fixing it and then it's done." I was proud of him, he had written a whole book in a matter of months. I knew he had been nursing that idea for years, I knew he had worked on it here and there in the past, but now he had dedicated his time just to that book, it was unbelievable what Louis could do. "So, it means I'm free. We could see each other."

"Lou..." His face fell, I felt like an arshole. "I want to see you, trust me, I miss you so much, but I have to study and I can't get distracted."

"Oh, really? Yet you still party every weekend." Louis' voice was harsh and he looked at me like I was betraying him. "I guess I know now what your priorities are."

"I haven't attended a party in two weeks, Lou." I was not lying, I was being honest and I wished he could see it, too, I wished he could trust me. "I haven't, I've been studying and working. You can ask Zayn."

Louis rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Yeah, of course, I bloody will, you never tell me anything. I don't even know what's going on in your life lately, you don't talk to me." I could tell that he was hurt, he was not mad, he was just hurt. I had hurt him. "What, you finally found someone your age and you don't want to tell me?"

"Fuck off!" I did not know where that anger came from, I just erupted and started yelling, frustrated and angry at Louis' question. "You're so fucking insecure, it's mortifying! Grow up, Louis! Grow the fuck up and stop doubting me, I'm not a bloody child!" He stared at me with his lips open, I kept going. "You're scared I'm going to cheat? Boo-fucking-whoo, cry me a river. I don't cheat, I don't behave like a moron when I'm with someone. I'm dedicated, I am better than your previous boyfriends and you know it! Me, I _am_ the best boyfriend you've ever had. I'm not a scumbag!"

"Harry, this is not-"

I got up from the bed and started to pace around the room, I could not sit still any longer, my legs were restless. "You- you should show me some respect, give me some credit, Louis. I'm a good person, I do good things, I am working my ass off because I need to stay on top, you know what I mean? I need to stay on top of my classes so I can keep on using my scholarship." Louis furrowed his eyebrows and I licked my lower lip. "And now you start giving me shit because I can't see you. It's not like I don't want to see you, I'm just busy!" I concluded with a laugh, which did not go unnoticed.

"Are you okay?"

"Bloody fantastic! Marvellous."

Louis nodded quietly and stared at me. "Why are you so narky today?"

I did not answer, I looked at him and then my hands, they were trembling again and I could feel my heartbeat in my ears, it was driving me insane and I hated it, I hated. I wanted it to stop. I looked back at the phone and at myself, I was in a bad shape and I was glad my body was hidden by oversized clothes, I had lost weight over the weeks and I knew that I looked almost ill. I did not want Louis to notice it, I did not want him to see my trousers fall down if I did not wear a belt. I was becoming a shell of who I used to be and I had only just realised it.

"I'll... I'll text you tomorrow." Louis whispered before closing the call.

I had hurt him, I had yelled at him and lashed out without a real reason. I was not a good person, I had stopped being a good person a long time before and I had hurt Louis with my actions and my words. I did not deserve him. I had made a mess and I knew I had, but I could not help it, I had just talked without connecting my mouth to my brain and I had ruined everything. Louis did not deserve my anger, he did not deserve to be treated like this. He had only shown me love, appreciation and care. I had not done the same that day.

Louis did not text me the day after our fight, I did not either. My sorrow and pain soon transformed into anger and I found myself pissed off at him, how had he dared to tell me that my priorities were parties? They were not, it was not the truth and he was wrong, he had been so wrong and so self-absorbed, I did not deserve that kind of treatment from him. I had shown him love, I had shown him that I wanted to make this relationship work. He had not done that, he had not thought of what we have as something stable.

I felt toyed with, I felt betrayed. Rationally, a side of my mind kept on telling me that what I was thinking did not make sense, that I was wrong and that I was being selfish and manic, however, I pushed those false ideas away. I knew that I was right, I knew that what I had done was the right thing. I had not made a mistake by getting angry at him, I had not. He deserved to hear what went through my head, he deserved to hear what was true so that he could push his insecurities away. He was so insecure sometimes, it was astounding. He was older than me and yet he still doubted himself like he was a teenager.

Pathetic.

Louis and I did not talk until the weekend, he sent me a text wishing me a good week and from there, we started to talk again. Things were not okay, they were still bumpy and I found myself drifting away from him every time I took a line, which was at least twice a day. I could not function on one alone, it did not do the trick anymore and I felt hollow, empty. I was slowly going away from my own life, everything was a struggle and I did not know how to take care of myself, not anymore. I did not eat, I barely slept - I did not even remember the last time I slept at night - and I did not spend my free time with my friends.

I worked, studied, doped up and then crashed down hard and fast. I was aware of it, I was aware of how bad the situation was, but I did not care, I did not care, I could not care until I reached my goal. I was so close, I was so close I could almost taste it. I only had three weeks left of classes and then my exams would approach. I needed it, I needed to be ready to be on top of my game and I needed to get better, to study even more and I knew that I had to stretch me to my limits in order to get there. I could do it, I just had to believe in myself and make sure that I could get the best marks in all of my classes.

Sam and I got closer over the weeks, he stopped trying to scam me and we actually lived pacifically with each other. I paid, he served me the good stuff. It was good, we did good and I loved it, we had found a routine that worked for both of us. It was nice. No one seemed to care that we hung out, no one seemed to notice and I knew that Zayn had stopped snooping around after my fight with Louis. Everything was good. My secret was safe.

I divided my days between classes, work and late-night study sessions. I was getting mentally ready to face two weeks of hard work and dedication, I had even asked Sam to give me a little extra in those two weeks and he had surprisingly said yes, which confused me. He had not asked anything in return, he nodded and looked at me with bewildered eyes. Was he still scared of me? I hoped not, I was not a violent person, I was far from it. I had never been violent, I only had a burst with him because he had messed around with money.

Even with Louis, after our fight, I had been remorseful and that meant I cared because I did. I did care about him and I did not want to ruin our relationship, I was even going to tell my parents about us. My parents. My parents, I was going to see my parents again and I wondered if they were going to notice that something was different with me, I wondered if they would notice that I was not a baby anymore. I had grown up, I was responsible. They were going to be proud of me, they were going to look at my grades and notice that I had picked the right course.

I was happy to go back home and then to Whitby. I missed my daily routine and I missed being a regular person, not a student, just a person. I was going to spend Christmas with my family and then go to Whitby on the 27th. It was a good plan. I was going to tell them about Louis as soon as I got home, they did not have to approve, I was not going to dump him if they were unhappy with our relationship. It was not their business, just ours. Ours. Ours. It was private, I had decided to tell them only because I felt like it. I did not want to keep them out of my life, it was not going to do me any good.

I was happy with Louis, we had a strong bond and that was enough, for me at least. If my mother and father had an issue with our relationship, it was not my problem. I was an adult and I was the one deciding for myself. I wanted to make them proud, sure, but that was normal. Every kid wants to make their parents happy.


	7. 18, 28

"You look... different."

Those were the first words Louis said to me. He held me tight to his chest as soon as I walked out of the house, he had come to pick me up again under my parents' request. They wanted to talk to him, and they did, asking him what his intentions were with me; once they were satisfied, they allowed us to leave. Louis did not touch me as he used to, he gently held me to his chest and looked at me with his brows furrowed, he had always been the curious one and it freaked me out a little, but it was okay. I could lie, I was a good liar after all. I had spent years pretending to be someone I was not, a few more days were not going to kill me.

"It's because of how much I study." I shrugged and kissed Louis' cheek. "I don't look that different, though."

He studied my face and then allowed his eyes to move down on my body. "You lost weight. And your eyes are different, you have chapped lips and your hands are shaking, again." He held my hands and I looked at him with an annoyed glance, he needed to stop. "But, hey, if you say you're okay, I trust you. I'll make sure to properly feed you once we get to Whitby. Make sure to have everything with you, I'm driving you back to Uni, right?"

"Yeah, Lou. As we said you would." I rolled my eyes and got into the car, he was too protective of me, he took too much care of me, too, it made me feel like a kid and it pissed me off. I liked how careful Louis was around me, however, sometimes it was too much. "Just drive, I have a headache and I kind of want to sleep."

Louis sighed and dropped the matter, he started driving and I zoned out, I almost fell asleep but the car stopped abruptly and I glared at Louis. I could never have a moment of peace, I could never rest without being disturbed by someone or something. It had been three days since I had last slept, I was tired and my eyes were burning, too, I needed to sleep very badly but I could not, I could not manage to fall asleep and I knew that it was coke's fault. I had tried to not use while I was at my parents' house, I tried to stay clean but it got difficult, I could not stay sober for more than a day. It hurt too badly.

I had tremors, I always had tremors and a runny nose, I even got nosebleeds at least once or twice a day. It was disgusting, I was disgusted with myself but I could not stop, I had tried to stop but it was too much, the pressure of Uni, the pressure of my family, it was too much. Cocaine helped a lot, I liked it and it made me feel powerful, I needed to have my confidence boosted and even my professors had said that I seemed brilliant, that my exams had great results.

I was winning, I was being successful and that meant that my plan was working. I had managed to work, I had managed to be good and be a hard-working student. I had to have a little outside help, but I had started university with the right foot. I was proud of myself, I was proud of who I was becoming and I knew that, after reaching my goals, I would go to rehab and get better. I was not even that far gone, I was good, I was still good and lucid.

Eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes. Eyes everywhere, everyone was looking at me in Whitby. Everyone was staring, they were judging me with sour looks and annoyed glances. They were disgusted by me, I could tell. We had stopped at a grocery store and as soon as I walked out, I had felt eyes glued to the back of my head, to my arms, to my legs. They were looking at me, studying me, I was their little project and I hated it, it made me feel dirty. I did not know why everyone was looking at me, but they were, they were silently judging me and Louis was allowing them to do so.

"We could bake a crumb pi- Harry, what are you doing?" Louis asked, dropping the bag of apples in the trolley.

"Hiding."

"What? Why?" He asked, stepping closer to me and glancing at the empty aisle in front of me. "You're hiding behind a fruit basked because...?"

"People are staring." Louis frowned and looked around once again. "They are, everywhere."

"There's no one around, Harry." He rested a hand on my shoulder and I flinched, he had scared me and his touch had made my skin prickle. "C'mon, we better hurry up."

He took care of the groceries, I did not pay attention to what he put in the trolley, I followed him and tried my best to not hide again. He did not understand me, Louis had always been my safe place and now he did not understand me. It was unsettling, it made me sad and I did not know what I was supposed to do now. I was lost, I wanted to feel good again but I did not know how. We reached the cash register and I glued myself to Louis' side, I did not like the cashier, she was too loud and she kept looking at me like I was an unseen species. She had cold eyes, too.

Louis paid and I dug my nails in his shoulder, making him itch and glare at me with a rigid jaw and a sigh.

"What's your problem?" I spitted, looking at the lady behind the register. "You're-"

"Let's go." Louis tugged me away, he was not gentle anymore, he was gripping my arms tightly and he was almost hurting me. "Sorry about him, he had a long night." He apologized to the cashier and dragged me out of the store.

He did not talk to me until we got home. I had to apologize to him, I had to say something about my behaviour but I just could not put myself to that, it felt like I was lying. I was not sorry, I was not even worried about it. Louis had to believe me when I told him that someone was staring at me, he had to believe me when I told him that I could feel eyes locked on the back of my head. It was unsettling, it was haunting and he had to believe me. I was telling the truth, I was not lying to him, I could never to do that.

Sure, I did hide things from him, but I never lied. I cared too much about our relationship to lie to him, it was not something I was comfortable doing. He had always been honest with me, I had to do the same.

I did not know how to start a conversation with him, I did not know how I was supposed to even begin a sentence. I could not tell him why I had snapped, I could not tell him why I felt eyes on me, I felt them everywhere I went. Everywhere, those eyes were always there; sometimes I could even see them, I could see the reflection on a mirror or on a shop window. Petrifying, scary, big and yellow, hollow. I always hid from them, I hid and waited until I could not see nor feel them anymore. I had spent my past days running around, trying my best to avoid them.

Once I left Manchester, I had thought I could leave those eyes behind, but they had followed me to Holmes Chapel and now to Whitby. What did they want from me, what did they want from my life? I had nothing to offer, I had nothing to sell to them nor gift them, I was a simple college student. I had never seen the person they were attached to, I had only seen those empty eyes and, after the first time, my heart had dropped in the pit of my stomach. No one could be able to make me forget that terrifying gaze.

"Sit." Louis pushed my shoulders down, making me almost fall on the couch. "What's gotten into you lately?" He was actually worried about me, I could tell by his mannerism. He talked softly, in a hushed tone that made me want to cry. I was ruining everything. "Are you going through something? Are you... struggling, mentally, I mean. Do you need a therapist?"

"No, no, I'm okay, it has been a long week and it has taken a toll on me." I had lied for the first time. I had lied. Liar. Liar. Liar. I was a grimy liar. "It's nothing to worry about."

"You were seeing things at the grocery store, Harry. People. No one was there but us, you know that, right?" I forced myself to nod. Filthy liar. "And you don't look fine either, are you sure you're okay?"

"For fuck's sake, Louis, I'm fine!" I stood up from the couch and he looked up at me, still seated with his hands clasped together in his lap. "Give it a rest already, it's getting tiring." I looked at the bags I had badly pushed next to the front door and curled my toes in my shoes. I could not do that, no, it was wrong. But I was going crazy. I knew it was wrong. "I'm going to unpack my stuff."

Louis just nodded, eyes unfocused.

I did not need it, I did not. I could stay sober during those few days I had with Louis. I could stay sober and enjoy my time in Whitby. I could, I did not need another hit to feel something. I did not need to waste it, I was not going to need to be on top of everything, I was not in university. I could stop myself if I wanted to, I did not have to hide in Louis' bathroom and take a blow from his bathroom sink, hunched over it with the door locked. I did not need to do that. I had the power of controlling myself, no one nor nothing could dictate my life anymore. I was not an addict, I could stop whenever I wanted.

The problem was that I did not want to stop.

Not yet.

I felt powerful and I felt important, for once I could be happy with Louis, we deserved to be happy. I had treated him badly, I had treated him like shit over the past weeks and he deserved to have a good and loving boyfriend by his side. It meant I had to stay focused, easygoing and active. I could not afford to have a headache, nausea or a fastened heartbeat, which ruined everything since I could not walk for a long period of time without feeling my chest on fire. I had to take it, just a little line, something that could buff out the edges a little.

When I got out of the bathroom, my hands were not shaking anymore. I felt better, I felt hopeful and full of happiness. I wanted to get Louis' hands on me and kiss him until my lips turned red, I had missed him so much over those weeks. Not being able to see him had made me feel like shit, I always thought about him, I always had him in my mind. I imagined our life together when I was high, I imagined what we could have in the future. In my imagination he was waiting for me, he was waiting for _me_ , his hands stretched out in the dark and his eyes lit up; a million suns hid behind his eyes.

"I put your things away, clothes are in the wardrobe and-" I cut him off, a hand on his chest and the other in his hair. I had missed kissing him. I had missed his warm body pressed on mine, I needed him more than I liked to admit. "Oh, hey." He whispered after pulling back.

"Sorry for freaking out, I'm just stressed." I murmured while sneaking my hands under his shirt, his sink was so warm against mine. I had missed him, I had missed him so much and I was just realizing it. "Can we just... can we cuddle for a bit? I missed you."

Louis nodded, we fell into the bed and under the covers, Louis was all over me and everything felt ten times better. My senses were wide awake, I could feel every little thing Louis did, I could feel my blood run through my veins and I could hear his heartbeat and mine, too. I was overwhelmed by sensations and my head was spinning. Louis was intoxicating, I craved him, I craved his touch more than I craved a hit, it was almost scary. I was not afraid of him, I wanted him to take me apart and watch me, see who I was; he had always been able to do that, he had always been able to kiss me and make me feel at ease.

Soon our gentle and innocent touches became heated, I found myself on top of Louis without clothes on. He was so close to me, I could feel his heart beneath my palm, it was comforting, grounding. I had never had sex while high - I had never orgasmed while high, either - and I had to admit it was... intense. Everything was amplified and I could feel the hair on Louis' arms, his rough fingers on my hips and his hot lips on my neck, I could perceive his want through his hands and I wanted more, more, more.

I wanted everything he could give me.

I rode him, slow and steady. He felt deeper than usual, I felt fuller than usual. I had done the right thing, I had done the right thing for once and sex had never felt that good, that fulfilling and intimate. Louis was still the same, yet I was different, I could enjoy him better and I could experience things differently. I was almost floating, whenever I met his thrusts up, I could feel my brain slowly shut down. I was in heaven, it was pure bliss and I was not even paying attention to what I was doing, I was just going with the flow and following my guts. My body remembered what do to in order to make Louis feel good.

I thought I was harder than usual, I was already on the edge and my eyes were rolling back in my head, it was so intense, so passional. I was not even present, I was too taken aback by how good it felt to be so free. I was free and freedom tasted like copper, like blood almost.

"Your nose! Jesus, fuck. Wait."

It was over in a second. Louis had left the bed and I looked around, disoriented and confused. What had just happened? I was sure we were having a good time, I thought we were enjoying each other but Louis had run out of the bed. I heard him shuffle through the kitchen, I could still hear him breathe heavily and my head was starting to hurt, my stomach was already unsettled and I felt the need to throw up. Nausea was the worst symptoms of using coke, it was not fun and it made me want to bash my head against a wall.

"Tilt your head back," Louis whispered when he came back into the room, sitting down beside me and placing his hands on my face. He had a bag of ice cubes in his palm and he gently pressed it over the bridge of my nose. "Does it happen often?"

"What are you talking about?" I frowned and Louis looked at me with his brows furrowed. Oh. I had gotten a nosebleed, I had not noticed it. "I mean, no. Sometimes, it depends on the weather I guess."

Louis sighed through his nose and shook his head. "Lie down." I moved my eyes around the room, I was nervous and I wanted Louis to let me go. It was nothing to worry about, just a stupid nosebleed that was going to go away soon. "God, Harry... you need to take better care of yourself."

"I'm trying, stop complaining so much, fuck. Why can't you stop asking so many questions? Fuck! Let me breathe."

"Why are you so angry?" Louis' voice was harsher now, I could never seem to do the right thing lately. I was disappointed with myself. "Forget about it. I'm going to wash my body, keep the ice on your nose."

Only when he mentioned it, I saw the drops of blood on his chest. I had made a mess, I wondered if he had cleaned himself in the kitchen already, but I was not sure. There were only a few drops on his chest, nothing too crazy, but it was still haunting and I felt an unsettling feeling dawn on me. I was not doing okay, I was going crazy again. First, it had been the eyes, now the sex while high, I was not supposed to indulge into it, I was not supposed to behave as if everything was okay. It was not, I was not, but I still could redeem myself. I had to, for my own sake.

I stared at Louis when he came back into the bedroom. His face was red and his eyes were puffy and bloodshot. He had cried, I had made him cry; I wondered how many times over the past months I had made him sad. He did not deserve that, he did not deserve to feel like shit because of a scumbag like me. He deserved better, he deserved a stable lover, I was not one and that realization made my blood boil. I was angry, I wanted to fight and scream and yell but I could not even lift a finger up, I was weak. I was too weak to even sit up in bed, my libs were heavy and my head seemed filled with cotton.

"You're a drug addict." It was not a question. "You did coke in my bathroom?" I had forgotten the bag in there, apparently. "Answer me!"

"Yeah."

He threw the little plastic zip-bag on the bed, it hit me on the chest. "How dare you? In my house! You didn't even have the decency to stay sober while you were with me! I'm-" He quieted down, his arms slack next to his sides. I did not like the look on his face, it was empty and emotionless. "Since when? When did you start using?"

"October, I think, I don't know." He nodded, eyes unfocused and mouth open. He looked catatonic. "Lou, I can explain. I want to quit and I can, I will, I promise. But I have to finish college first, I have to get good grades, yeah? I have to be on top of it and coke helps. I feel so good when I'm high, everything's so easy. You can't understand but I promise you, it feels good, _so good_." Louis did not answer, he did not move, he stared at the ground without emitting a sound. "Even Sam thinks I can stop when I want. He told me I can, and I trust him. He would never lie to me. I mean, he has in the past but he won't anymore."

"Who's Sam?" Louis whispered.

"He sells me coke, we have a deal. It's very good, you should be proud of me for not getting scammed. He has tried to, but I... well, I made sure I could trust him." I nodded, a smug smile on my face and my eyelids were heavy. "Are you proud? I know it's not a usual thing, but are you proud of my results in uni? Mum's very happy about it."

"Do your parents know?" I shook my head. "Does Zayn know?" I shook my head again. "Are you willing to stop, now? Go to rehab and get help?"

"I don't need help!" I found the energy to stand up, a rush of adrenaline made me shake on my legs, I was shaking violently, my tremors were worse than usual, but I could now stand up on my own feet. "I don't need help! I'm not an addict!" Louis did not move as I wobbled toward him. "Take it back, I don't need help! You're a liar!"

"Stop yelling."

"Stop lying!"

Everything happened so quickly and I found myself breathless and on the ground, Louis' hands on my back so that he could hold me there. He had tried to take the bag from the bed, I knew he was going to toss it away and he could not do that, I had spent too much on it, it was mine. Mine. Mine. Mine! Louis could not take it from me, he could not waste what I had earned by working hard. I had grabbed his arm, I had scratched it while trying to get the coke before him, but Louis had gotten buffer than me, stronger - which was not difficult since I had lost a lot of weight. He had managed to make me fall to the ground before I could hit him, because _I_ was going to hit him in the face. Louis had pinned me on the soft carpet, his body was heavy on mine and I could barely breathe; I wanted it to stop.

He let me go after I stopped thrashing around, I was trying my best to escape from his grip. I screamed and yelled and kicked but he did not budge, he did not move. He just kept his body firmly pressed on mine, a hand very tight around my wrists and the other on the bed. He had won, he had taken possession of the coke and I did not know what to do. I started to cry, I begged him to leave it, to let me have it; I promised him that it was going to be the last hit. He did not believe me, he did not talk. He just waited for me to stop crying and screaming.

Louis stood up, I had gone slack in his grip and I was now lying on the floor, eyes open and mouth dry. He did not talk, he did not look at me while he started to fill a bag with his clothes, he was leaving me. He was going to abandon me, it was my biggest fear and it was becoming a reality. I raised my head from the carpet with a groan, it hurt bad but I needed to check if the zip-bag was still on the bed. It was. Louis had not taken it with him, he had left it there. It did not make sense, perhaps he wanted to trust me, he wanted to see if I was going to keep on using, to keep on disappointing people. I was not. I was going to stop that night.

I wondered if he was going to tell my parents about it. I hoped not.

"Where are you going?" I was still lying on the carpet.

"Out."

"Where?"

"Just out. I need time."

He always needed time. Time, time, time, nothing was as important as time for him. "Will you come back? Tonight, I mean."

"I don't know." He zipped the duffle bag.

"I was sorta hoping you'd stay," I admitted, voice low and gruff.

"I don't want to watch you die."

With that, he left.

I was all alone, I had nothing left now. My family did not know what I had done, Louis was away, Zayn was busy with his own family and Liam. I had no one. I was lonely, I was sad and I was lost. I did not know what to do. I wanted to get up and take care of myself, I had to get better and stop crying over myself like a child. I was the one fucking up, I was the one who had ruined everything with Louis. I had pushed him away and I had disappointed him, I had fooled him and I had lied to him. I had become the person I had always hated.

When we first got together, I had promised to myself that I was never going to lie to Louis. He was my safe place, he was someone I could come undone with, I could show myself to his eyes; he had always been eager to see who I truly was underneath the sheen curtain of my facade. Louis had managed to make me feel comprehended, he had taken me, broken and lost, and he had helped me grow into a better person, into someone I could be proud of. Yet, I had let him down. I had disappointed him by starting to use drugs as an escape route.

I was running away, but what was I running away from?

The fear of failure.

I had always been afraid of failing, I had always been pushed to do good, to be the best in everything. I had grown up in a good family, we had had everything and I had never had to work hard for what I wanted, they had always provided for me, they had always said yes to me. As an exchange, I had learnt to please them by studying hard and being a kind and normal child. I had pretended to be straight, I had pretended to be interested in law, I had pretended to be happy, I had pretended. I had always pretended to be fine.

With Louis, I had never had to do that. But I fucked it up. I royally fucked up by hiding myself into drugs and the glory of being the best student of my course. It was not worth it, it was not worth it anymore. The nausea, the bugs under my skin, the weight loss, the paranoia - which, at the time, I did not know I had - and the sleepless nights were not it anymore. I had lost Louis, I had lost myself and I had lost everything in the span of a few months.

I managed to get up from the ground, I grabbed the bag still on the bed and looked at it. That had cost me forty pounds, I had wasted hundreds of pounds on cocaine. It was time for me to stop, to seek help. I did not want to, in the back of my brain I could still feel panic and anger bubble up, I had to cut my plan short, I could not keep it up for another few years. I grabbed the zip-bag and headed into the bathroom, I had to flush it away, I had to get rid of it. For me, for my own sake and my own health. I licked my lower lip, I could not waste those forty pounds either.

One last hit. The last one of my life.

There was not a lot left, but it was enough for me to form a few, thick lines. I had never used that much before, I had always tried to divide it so that I could take some every day. Now, though, I was going to snort what I would have used in the following four days. I was scared, it was going to feel different than usual for sure, perhaps it was going to be better, perhaps it was going to be worse. I did not know, I just wanted to get done with it and move on.

The first ten minutes were pure bliss, I had never felt that good before, never. I had done the right thing once again, I knew I could not waste what was left. I could not feel my hands, nor my feet, and the bathroom floor was comfortable, it felt good under my skin. It was cold and it was a relief for my body, my temperature was slowly rising up, but it was normal. It was bound to happen. What was not normal, was the pain in my chest, I could not breathe. I could not breathe and there were eyes staring at me. Not yellow. No. No. No. They were red now, they were above me and they were coming closer. Closer. Closer. They were going to swallow me whole.

I scrambled to get my phone from my pocket, my vision was blurry and my hands were shaking too much, I did not know what was happening to me, it had never happened to be me before. I found Louis' contact by pure chance, it was the last number I had called and, even if my fingers were not cooperating with me, I pressed the call button, putting him on speaker. Pick up. Pick up. Please, pick up. They're closer now, closer, closer, closer. There are people around, voices. Loud and taunting, mocking.

"What?" I tried to speak but I could not for a word, the nausea was too strong and I ended up throwing up on my own lap. "What's wrong?"

"I threw up and- and- I don't feel good." I tried to get up from the floor again, I could not lie there, I could not lie down. I could die if I kept on lying on my back. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please I'm sorry."

"Harry, what's going on?"

"I don't know! There's- someone, Lou, there's someone here and there are eyes everywhere and my chest hurts so bad. I can't breathe, I can't breathe." I was crying and my nose was bleeding again, but I had managed to sit up. "Please, they're closer. I don't want to die."

I heard Louis talk to someone, I did not understand what was going on anymore. I was too stimulated, I could feel my heart and I knew it was beating too fast, it was not safe anymore, it was not okay anymore. I was completely losing my mind, my body did not respond anymore and I was starting to not feel my left arm anymore. I could not feel it, I could not feel it. My chest was hurting a lot and I could not breathe through my nose nor through my mouth.

Louis was still talking but I could not answer him, I did not understand what he was telling me, I was lost. I thought I could see him in the bathroom. He was in the bathroom. He was the person with the red eyes, he was the one who was going to eat me alive. I slid down the wall, I was scrambling, kicking and screaming, I did not want him to get closer, I did not want him to touch me. He was scary, tall and horrifying. It was Louis, I could recognize him anywhere, but he was judging me, he was looking at me with a disgusted glare.

_Pathetic. So pathetic._

It was his voice, loud and clear. I could hear him, I could feel his touch on my face and I screamed, coughing and throwing up again. The chest pains got worse. I was sweating, too, my body seemed on fire and not even the cold tiles of the floor were not helping anymore. I was so scared, everything felt worse than before and I did not know what to do. Louis was looming over me, his hands were on my neck and he was choking me, I could feel his nails press into my skin. He was going to kill me.

I closed my eyes when I slid down the wall completely, I was lying on the bathroom floor again. I did not have the strength to roll on my side. Louis was still on top of me and he was holding me down, he was mocking me, he was showing me how weak I was, I could not even push him away from me. I was useless, again, I was not a good kid. I was not a good child. I had disappointed everyone, I did not have the time to apologize, I had run out of time and Louis was there to take me away, to free me from the misery I had inflicted on myself. I had fucked up. Louis looked at me with his red eyes, they were bleeding and I could feel a few drops hit my face.

What was he doing to me? Why was he humiliating me? Why me? Why?

"Harry." His voice was deeper than usual. It did not sound like him. "Look at yourself, Harry."

I shook my head, I did not want to. I could not face the truth.

"Close your eyes, then. Let go, let go. Let go."

I wanted peace, I wanted the pain in my chest to stop, I wanted the tremors to end and the banging in my head to disappear. I was tired, I was so tired of it all, I could not deal with it anymore.

I closed my eyes.

Louis was there, he was cradling me softly, he was humming a song I had never heard before. I was lying in his lap, he had his legs parted, the right one was elevated from the ground, his foot was resting on a block of wood. My lower back was lying on that knee, he was supporting me with his right arm and his hand was under my armpit, his fingers were pressing on my skin. I was naked. My legs were lying on his left leg, lifeless. Like me. I had my head thrown back, my left arm was confined between our bodies, my right one was limp, my fingers still. He was looking down at me, he was younger, he was twenty-six again.

He was looking at me like I was his child.

"What have you done to yourself?" Louis sighed and I tried to raise my head. "What have you done, Harry?"

"I finished it." I managed to whisper, voice slurred and quiet. "I finished what was left."

"How many grams?"

"I don't know."

Louis sighed and started to hum again, it was peaceful. He was mourning me, he was holding me tight to his chest while swinging left to right, right to left, eyes blurry and clouded. He was not crying, he was not even there, it almost seemed as if he was somewhere else, detached. I tried to call out for him, I tried to yell his name but I could not form a single word, a single syllable. He was humming and it was comforting. I was letting go, I was letting go and Louis was carrying me away with him, he was cradling me and whispering the lyrics of that song. It was our song. A song of loss, pain, anger and happiness. It was our story.

I blinked.

Louis was not lulling me to sleep anymore, he was holding me by my hair and he was staring at me with an annoyed look on his face. My mouth was open, my eyes were lifeless and I could see myself as if I was having an out of body experience. He was standing up, a pair of boxers on, he had that bloody zip-bag in his right hand and he was holding my head by my hair with his left one. My body was nowhere to be seen, nor found. There was only my head there, it was dripping with blood. He had his head slightly tilted to the side and his lips pursed in a grin of disgust.

"You let go." Louis spitted out. "Liar!"

"I'm sorry."

"You always are, aren't you, Harry?" He made my head dangle. "You thought I was pathetic. I know you did. I'm not the child, here, I'm not the one who turned into a druggie because he was too weak to study like any normal person. And you thought coke would help." I tried to defend myself, he did not let me. "Weak just like everyone has always assumed. Pathetic, Harry. You're pathetic. You're dying now, you're dead. You disappointed everyone. You're a failure."

It was not Louis, he would never tell me those things, he would never make me cry. He cared about me, he did not hurt me, he had never hurt me. It was not in his blood, it was not in his genes, he was not a bad person.

I was.

I wanted to wake up and I wanted to move, I had to wake up, I had to move, I had to do something. I could not die, I could not leave my parents, Gemma, Louis, Zayn. I could not let go. I could not stop fighting, I could not. But I was just doing that, I was allowing myself to float away because I could not deal with the pain I had inflicted upon myself. I was the one who had messed up. I was the one who had overdosed. I had fucked up.

I had let my hair grow because I had planned on having Louis' braid it, I had let them grow till they reached my shoulders because I wanted his fingers to play with it. I wanted him to brush it, wash it, pamper it while taking a bath with me. I had made plans for our future, I had made plans for our first New Year's Eve together, I had bought clothes, I had bought gifts, and now I was slipping away. I did not want to lose him, I did not want him to lose me.

I wanted to feel like I had felt in Whitby back in July. I wanted to be happy, carefree. I wanted him to kiss me one more time, I wanted him to whisper sweet nothings into my ear before falling asleep one more time, I wanted to hold his hand one more time, I wanted to make love to him one more time. I did not want to cause him pain, I did not want to leave him so soon. We had been together for less than a year and I was already leaving.

I had ruined everything.

"Harry..."

My mum, my mum was there. "I'm so scared, mummy." I had not called her like that in a long time. I had not shown her love for a long time, too busy pretending that I was living a life that they had planned for me. It was not true, they had never forced me to do anything, they had never forced me to be someone else. "I'm so scared, it's so cold."

"It's okay, son."

"Dad?"

I could not see them, I could not see them. I was going crazy, I had to see them one last time. I had to apologize for hiding, for making them the bad people into my life. They had never been bad, they had always taken care of me and shown me, love, they had always accepted me. They had supported me when I had picked law as my major, they had supported me, even more, when I had decided to follow my true passion. They had hugged me when I had come out to them. They had never forced me into a box, I had placed myself there. I had fooled myself, I had tricked my own brain.

I had played the victim for eighteen years when I had never been one. I was the victim of myself.

"God, Harry."

Gemma, oh Gemma. She was crying. I could smell her perfume and I could feel her touch on my skin. I could not keep up, I could not allow myself to die but I was so tired, I was exhausted and I had nothing left. There was nothing for me anymore, I had ruined everything and it was too late, it was too late at that point.

I was too far gone to be rescued.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't want to go, please I'm sorry." I was crying, I was crawling across the floor and I was trying to stand up again. "Please!" I tried to ignore the red eyes, they were still there, above me, taunting. "I don't want to die! I don't want to die, I don't!"

My body seemed nailed to the ground, it was. It was nailed there. There were bugs crawling up on my left arm, the chest pains were back and I could not keep my eyes open any longer, everything hurt and I was losing my mind. The last flicker of light went off, the darkness was approaching, fast, it was running toward me and I cried. I had never stopped crying. I did not want to be alone, I did not want to be left there, I did not want to rot in an empty and black room. I did not want to lose, I did not want to die.

I was going to die, I was going to die at eighteen because I had toyed with my life and I had ruined it with my own hands.

"I don't want to play this game anymore!" I yelled, clawing at the walls around me. I was in a box. There was no air left. "I don't want to be here! Please!" The walls were closing up on me. "Help! Please, help! I don't want to play this game anymore!" The air was running out. "Shit, get me the fuck out of here!" 


	8. 19, 28

Light.

My eyes hurt. I could not move my hands, I could not move my legs, everything seemed stuck. I was stuck. Did I pass out or did I die? I was not sure, I did not know what was going on around me, I was just scared and in pain. I was in so much pain, never in my life had I experienced such a horrid and mind-numbing kind of pain. Not even when I had broken my leg while chasing my childhood best friend around the neighbourhood.

Lucas and I had decided to ride around on our new bicycles - mum had bought it for me when I had turned seven, we had ended up racing each other, we both had wanted to win and I had been too reckless, too fast, I had crushed against a tree after losing control. I had broken my leg and opened my lower lip. I had thought I was cool, my cast had been appreciated by everyone at school and it had gotten covered by little drawings and signatures.

Now, though, I did not have a broken leg, nor a split lip. I was lying in a hospital bed with a respirator on, I could feel it on my face, it was uncomfortable and I wanted to take it off, but my hands felt heavy and I was too drowsy to remove it. I gave up, I did not want to get agitated, not when I did not know what had happened to me. I did not remember a thing, well - I did remember, but I was not sure if everything had really happened or if my brain had gotten fried by drugs. It was a possibility, and it was terrifying.

I did not want to lose myself, I did not want to lose my memories. I had wasted eighteen years of my life, I had wasted my family time, I had wasted my relationship with Louis, my friendship with Zayn and my first year of college. I was tired of letting things slip out of my grip, I was tired of being angry with the world when I had nothing to be angry about. I had lived in a lie for so long, I had put myself in a dangerous position because I had wanted to escape from a life that was not even that bad. I had made myself think that everyone was against me. I was a horrible person, not my mum, not my dad, me.

I wondered if they were truly there with me. I had heard their voices, I was sure of that, but now that I felt slightly better, I was not sure if they had been there with me. Probably not. My mind had played tricks on me and I was pissed off. I probably had called 999 without realizing it, I could have done a lot of things without realizing it that night. I had been pretty out of it. I had called Louis, too. I had called him and asked him to help me, to come back to me, had he done it? I was not sure, I did not know if I had seen him during my delirium.

"He's awake now, you can come in."

A nurse and a doctor. I was not alone in the room, they had visited me and now they were letting someone in. I did not want to see Louis, I did not want him to see me like this, even though he had probably gone through worse because of me. I was already in distress and I had just woken up, I was baffled by how gullible and all over the place, my mind was. I had truly fucked up, I had truly ruined myself. I wondered if I could ever go back to being healthy, stable.

"His family should arrive in an hour." It was Louis, I could recognize his voice everywhere. "I had called them as soon as I got here and... yeah, they- they'll be here soon." He did not sound okay, his voice was thick and heavy, it made my bones shake.

The door closed behind his shoulders, I tried my best to turn around to look at him, everything was on fire yet I was cold at the same time. Louis looked devastated, he had cried and he had his hair tousled, messy, he was pale and I could tell that he had been chewing on his cuticles. I had ruined everything, I had made him feel bad and I had destroyed our relationship. It was never going to be the same, it was never going to be okay again, I had sabotaged my own happiness because I had been selfish, dumb.

Louis approached the bed, he looked down at me and sighed. "You had a seizure." I did not remember that. "It's a miracle you're... you were lying on your back and you threw up and- Harry... I-" He cut himself off and sighed, he blinked twice and swallowed. "It was bad, really bad. You were seeing things and the paramedics struggled to get you to stay down." I did not answer. "I'm glad you're okay."

I nodded, I turned my hand around with great difficulty, inviting him silently to hold it. I wanted to know if things were okay between us, however, I knew it was not the right time, not yet. I did not need to worry about my relationship, I had to worry about myself and about what was going to happen to me after leaving the hospital.

Leaving.

I wondered when I was going to get discharged, hopefully soon since my school break was about to end. I did not want to waste my first year of university, I did not want to get behind the others and lose my scholarship, my job. I could not afford that, I could not go and live with my parents again, not after what had happened that night.

Louis sat down on a chair, he was close to the bed and he had taken my hand into his own, he was caressing it, careful to not jostle the IV. They were keeping me hydrated. From what I had gathered, I had overdosed and I had almost died, I was sure I had left a mess behind in Louis' bathroom. My head was hurting again and I was trying my best to ignore my nausea, which was still there even if it was less severe. I was already experimenting with withdrawal symptoms and I was not looking forward to that, I knew the following days were going to be a nightmare.

"Your parents and Gemma will arrive later tonight," Louis said after taking a sip of water. "I called them and I've told them what happened. You were calling out for them while in the ambulance and I just thought you might want to see them. I also wanted to see them."

They were going to talk about me, they were going to decide what I was supposed to do now. I wanted to get better and get clean, I wanted to go to school and have fun again, in a healthy and safe way this time. I was not going to get tempted again, I was not going to do the same mistake twice. I could not do that, I could not waste any more time. I knew I had to go to rehab, I knew it was going to be strongly advised to me, but I was scared of those facilities. They were never pretty, they were never nice, they were lonely and cold.

"I want to go home," I whispered after moving the respirator off of my face. "When am I going to be released?"

"Soon." Louis smiled sadly and squeezed my hand. "They just have to run the last tests, make sure that there's no internal damage."

"I'm sorry for ruining New Year's Eve." I looked up at him and then at our hands. "You must hate me, now."

"I don't, I'm just scared." He sighed and rubbed my knuckles. "We've almost lost you, Harry. You need to- to go to therapy and stabilize yourself. They've given me some pamphlets while I was waiting for you and I found one or two that are quite nice, pretty close too."

"I don't want to go to rehab, Louis. I don't need it, I can do it on my own." He looked at me and pursed his lips, he didn't say anything else. "I don't want to go somewhere for six months and waste my school year, I can't afford it."

"I think you're wrong."

"I don't care!" I needed to calm down, I needed to keep in mind that I was lashing out because I had not had a hit in... hours. Hours. I could already feel the anger and nervousness build up in my bones. "Sorry."

Louis shrugged. He did not speak again, he sat quietly while looking at me.

My family arrived when it was pitch black outside. They had driven for three hours just for me, Gemma had abandoned her work and she had ditched her busy schedule for me. I felt guilty, I felt angry and sad, too. I had believed in a lie that I had fabricated in order to protect myself from nothing. I had acted like a scared child and I was almost nineteen, I needed to grow up and I needed to do it quickly, too. I could not keep on living in a lie, I could not pretend that everything was okay when it was not.

I needed to fix my issues, I needed to work on myself without bringing other people down with me in the process. Louis had been scarred by my actions the most, he had been ruined by my stupidity and now he was there, sitting by my side with his lips in a tight line and his hands by his sides. He did not talk, he greeted my parents silently before slipping out of the room; I did not understand him sometimes, I did not understand why he had slipped away from me after my mum and dad and sister had arrived. It looked like he did not want to be around them, it was a painful thought.

He had been in my life forever, he had known them since he was a child and now, now I had ruined everything. He could not even face my parents, he could not fathom the idea of being around them. It pissed me off, too. Not only had I ruined the relationship between him and my parents, but I had also mined the one between Louis' parents and mine. I was a danger, I was a menace, I did not deserve to be alive. I did not deserve to be there after causing them so much pain and sorrow. Louis did not deserve someone like me by his side, he needed someone better, someone stronger and mentally stable.

My mum hugged me tightly, she held my face in her hands once she pulled away and I could tell that she had cried. So had Gemma. And my dad. I made my dad cry, him, the man I had always assumed was made of steel. I could not believe it, I did not want to believe it, it was not right, it was not okay. I had destroyed our balance, I had destroyed everything they had built around me and now they were ruined. I had ruined my family. I had poisoned everything and everyone. Once again I thought that I did not deserve to be alive.

"So we need to... we found a nice place for you here in Scarborough, it's close to Louis and we think it could be good for you, Harry." My dad said after patting my hand softly, he had not done that in a long time, it was surreal now, almost scary. "We've already contacted them, too."

"You don't have the rights!" I did not need to get angry, I did not need to lash out. It was pointless, it was useless, I knew the truth, deep down I knew I needed help from a facility. "I don't need help," I said, lying to myself and to them.

"You almost died." I had never seen Gemma angry, we had bickered in the past and we had our quarrels but she had never screamed at me, she had never treated me like a mere child. "You need help."

"It's a nice place, too. We've already made arrangements and you'll go there once you get discharged." My mum was assertive, she did not leave room for an argument, she did not allow me to say no, she did not plan on letting me live my life like this. I could understand her point of view, but it still hurt a little, it was not what I needed. I did not want to be babied. "You're not okay, Harry. Receiving that phone call... I've never felt so lost, baby, the idea of losing you has never crossed my mind before and now it's here, now I know how it feels."

"I'm sorry, mum," I whispered. My headache was still there, it was driving me insane, too. I could not deal with it and with my family at the same time. "I didn't mean to."

"We know, but you almost died, Harry, right under our noses." She sat on the bed and took my hand in hers. "Poor Louis got so scared... I have never seen him cry like that, and I was there when he broke his foot and when his first relationship ended. He was really afraid, baby."

"What happened? He refuses to tell me the details." I sighed and rubbed my eyes tiredly, my body was aching and I needed to sleep, I needed to get my hands on something, anything.

"Well, you called him while he was at the supermarket and you were panicking, you said there were people in the house and you started to say random stuff, you were hallucinating. Louis called an ambulance from the store and kept you on the line with his smartphone. He thought you were going to die on him." Gemma refused to look at me, she had her eyes pointed on her nails. "He said you were yelling and crying, he hung up only when he heard the ambulance arrive. He didn't hang up, the paramedics did. It freaked him out. Then he called us, he said you had overdosed on cocaine and that it was his fault." I furrowed my eyebrows, that was not true. "He thought he made you OD because he left."

"That's not-"

"We told him." Gemma said curtly, looking at me for the first time with a tense jaw. "He doesn't believe us. I hope you're happy now."

"Gemma..." My mum placed a hand on her arm.

"He's always been the baby of the family, look where he is now! He's a bloody drug addict! He's an ungrateful child!" Her words hurt more than I wanted to admit, I did not know she felt like that about me. "You spoiled him, you all allowed him to do whatever he pleased, look where he is! Look!"

"Enough!" My dad pinched the top of his nose and looked at us, shifting her eyes from me, to my mum, to Gemma. "There's no point in fighting."

"Louis thinks we hate him, dad!" Gemma pushed my mum's hand away and stepped closer to me, she was furious and I was not in a correct nor healthy mindset, I could not face her. Not yet. "Congratulations, you fucked up our friendship."

I did not answer, I preferred to sit in silence while she stormed out of the room, shutting the door behind herself quite loudly and angrily. Her words kept on going around in my head, she was right and I knew it. I had always been sheltered by my parents, I had always been taken care of and I had never done anything for them, never. I had only whined and pictured them as bad, as evil, and they were not. They were loving, caring and there for me, they had done their best to raise me but I had never appreciated what they had done for me. I had been too busy, too invested with my fake world and twisted perception of them.

My mum sat down again and so did my dad, they looked at each other and I saw love, compassion, sadness. My parents. They had been married for years, they had been in love since I could remember and they had faced everything together. Stronger together. That was what everyone said, what every cheesy and cheap linea from a B-series movie portrayed in their scenes. It was true though. I wondered if I could ever have that kind of love with Louis if I could save what I had ruined. I did not want to lose him, I wanted him to stay with me and see me get better, get healthier and happier.

I hated what I had done to him, I hated what I had cause him, he did not deserve it, he did not deserve to be sad because of me. He did not deserve to lose himself. Louis had always been strong, he had always been the mature one, I needed him more than I liked to admit and I wondered if he knew it, I wondered if he knew how much I cared about him. We had not been together for long, yet I felt safe with him, loved. Perhaps it was too early to talk about love, to think that we were in love, but it felt like that, it felt like we shared a deep and profound bond. Louis had captured me, he had broken my walls and he had made me see that there was more outside, that there was a whole world there, for me.

Perhaps I did love Louis. Perhaps I loved him and I loved how I felt with him, he made me whole and I felt strong when I was with him. It was a cliché but it was true, Louis had gotten under my skin and I could not shake him away, I could not ask him to leave me alone because I did not want him to. I wanted him to stay with me, I wanted him to kiss me every morning, every night, every afternoon and evening. I wanted him by my side. I needed him by my side, I wanted to get better so that we could move on.

I knew I had fucked myself up for the rest of my life, to get out of addiction you had to go through a lifetime of recovery. I knew that I did not look forward to it either, but it was the right thing to do, it was the right choice. I had to swallow my pride and accept the fact that I needed outside help, I needed to go somewhere where I could not get my hands on coke.

I zoned out when my parents left, Louis refused to get back into my room and they needed to talk to him about the rehab centre. I wanted to get out of bed, my legs were aching and I felt the need to move, to do something, I had to get out of that room and out of that bed, but I still had an IV in and I could not get up without jostling something. I was restless yet, at the same time, I was exhausted, I wanted to sleep and hide from the rest of the world. It was going to be a long week for me, a long week and a half if I was correct.

It turned out I did not have any internal damage, which meant that I could go to the rehab facility the following day. I was not looking forward to that at all, I did not want to be secluded into a random place with no one nor anything with me. I could not see Louis for a while, I could not see him for the first two weeks of "detox", as the pamphlet said. I was going to hate it, I was going to despise every damn second I would spend there. Did I need it? Did I need to go to rehab? I could do it on my own, I could stop on my own accord. I could do it if I wanted to.

However, I owed to my parents, to my sister, to Louis. I could not make them suffer any longer.

The facility was not bad, Louis drove us, all of us, there. I sat in the front next to him while my family sat in the backseats of his Mini. They tried to chat with Louis and me, I chatted back and made short conversations, Louis did not. He stayed quiet and isolated, he did not open his mouth once, he only nodded and hummed here and there, keeping his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel. It was driving me insane. I wanted to tell him to stop, to look at me and tell me what the hell was wrong.

Was he angry? Perhaps yes.

"Here we are, turn left." My dad said.

I was nervous. I was nervous and I wanted to run out of the car. I did not. I stayed put and looked at the villa. The walls were dusted by a light cream paint, the garden was well kept and it was enormous, gated too. It was an old villa, I could tell it by looking at how it was built, it was large and high, perhaps it could house around ten patients at the same time, which was a lot. There was a lot you could do there: gardening, swimming, singing, writing, acting, cooking and baking; they did not want you to stay with your hands in your lap.

"Mr Styles?" A young woman welcomed us, she stood by the door with her dark hair pulled in a ponytail. She wore simple clothes, she was simple, no nail polish, no jewellery and no makeup. Simple. "Come in, we were waiting for you. I'm Sarah."

"Harry." I shook her hand and followed her inside, dragging my bags with me - my mum had made me bring all the clothes I had. I turned around to look at my family and at Louis, who was staring at the ground with his brows furrowed. "This is my family and my boyfriend."

Sarah nodded and handed me a sheet of paper that I had to sign, it was my admission. I did it with a shaky hand, I was signing my life away, I was going to regret it, I was. I could not run away now, I could not shove my head under the sand anymore. I gave her the pen and the sheet of paperback, she took my bags from me and then gave a plastic box, I had to put my phone, my wallet, anything I had with me that could allow me to find a dealer. I was fuming.

"Okay! We're all settled, we have your medical records, we have your allergies and inhaler, too. We can all walk with him to his room, now." She seemed happy, way too happy for my own liking, but I appreciated that she tried to make everyone feel included.

I let my parents go first, they bombarded Sarah with questions and I walked next to Louis. He did not look at me, he kept his head low and his brows furrowed, he did not look up, not once, not even when Gemma asked him for an opinion on the facility. He mumbled his reply and then shut up. It was my fault, I made him feel like that, I ruined him. I ruined him. He even flinched when I held his hand, his eyes did not move from the ground but his grip was tight, solid, it was bone-crushing and not in a good way.

Louis was scared.

I did not have time to dwell on it, we had reached my room and I pressed myself on Louis' side, I could feel my heart in my throat and it was beating fast, too fast. It was just like that when I got high. I needed a line, I had been thinking about it for the whole car ride and I could feel my hands twitch and shake, I was coming down way harder than I imagined.

Louis and I walked inside, I did not let go of his hand while I examined the single bed, it was positioned next to a wall with a window, the light blue sheets seemed soft and they smelled good, clean. The pillow was fluffed up and the bedside table was empty, there was only a lamp on it. It was not bad, I had seen worse - like my dorm - and it seemed comfortable, safe. I could be safe there. I had the room all to myself, as everyone in the facility, and I even had my personal "help", who basically a nurse.

"It's alright, right?" My mum smiled at me and patted my shoulder gently, letting her fingers linger there. I nodded, I could not talk, my throat seemed filled with cotton and I could not speak. "It's going to be okay, love. We'll be here when you get out."

"H-how long 'till I leave?" I murmured, I was still standing close to Louis, I did not want to let him go.

"Until it's safe for you to go." Gemma grumbled from the window, she was looking outside, her shoulders hunched over. "We don't want you to die, you know. Better safe than sorry."

My dad sighed and Louis stilled next to me. It was not his fault, it was not, it was not. Yet, he was still tense and nervous, he did not cope well with it at all, neither did my family. Gemma was angry, Louis was scared and my parents were just trying to keep everything afloat, normal. Nothing was normal now, I had ruined everything again. I wanted to scream, I wanted to tell them they needed to let me alone, to let me go, I did not want to be there, I did not want to be in pain anymore. I could barely breathe, my hands were shaking and my head was fuzzy, I was disoriented and my mouth was dry. I needed it, I needed it. I bloody needed it.

"We can contact you for two weeks, for safety reasons I think." My dad looked at the door and then at me, forcing himself to smile.

"They're scared I'll convince you to bring me some drugs here?" I joked. Too soon. Louis stepped back almost as I had burned him and my mum's face fell. "I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have."

Louis shuffled away from me and he stood next to the closed door, he had his eyes pointed to the ground again and he had gotten quieter, sadder, more scared.

Sarah walked back into the room with my bags. They had searched them, I was sure of that, they had opened them up, looked through them and checked my clothes, my personal belongings. They had violated my privacy. I wondered if they had read what I had scrabbled into my leather-bound journal. I hoped not, there were a lot of erratic thoughts written in it. Louis had gifted me in order to write ideas for movies and short stories in it, however, I had filled it with sentences and delirious thoughts I had had while high. It was embarrassing, humiliating.

"Time to go." My dad said after receiving a shiny smile from Sarah, she seemed nice, way too nice. He turned around toward me, he hugged me tightly and rested a hand in my hair, stroking it while sighing quietly. "We'll see you in two weeks."

I did not have the time to answer, my mum hugged me tightly and started to cry. I did not know what to do, I did not know what to say either, she was crying and she was holding me tight, too tight to her chest while calling me "her baby". I felt like shit. I hugged her back and stared at Louis, at my dad, at my sister, I could see the pain I had caused him in their eyes.

"It's alright, mum." She held me tighter and I rubbed her back. "It's alright."

She moved away from me, I could not look at her, I could not. Gemma did not touch me, she just looked at me and shook her head before stepping toward the door, my dad tried to speak but my mum looked at him and sighed. I did not know what to do anymore, I was lost. Louis' turn was painful for me, he hugged me tightly and I gripped at his shoulders and at his clothes, I did not want to let him go, I did not want to let them go. I did not want to be alone.

"You'll visit me in two weeks, right?" I whispered in his ear, I did not want to let go. He nodded and I tugged on his hair, I wanted him closer, I needed him closer. "Send me letters, too. I love when you send me letters and- and I think you can do it, right? Right?"

"Okay." He whispered while caressing my back, I had missed his touch, I had missed his body against mine. I loved him, I loved him so much. "Your family will be here in two weeks."

"Will you?" I pulled back and looked at him, he was tired and sad, I did not recognize him. "Will you be there, Louis?"

"I will."

I chose to believe him.

I met my "companion" - who basically my nurse - that evening. He was two years older than me, Irish, his name was Niall. He was buff, he liked to work out and he liked to take care of himself, he cycled and played golf in the back garden of the villa; he offered to teach me how to play, too. He was not as tall as me, a few centimetres shorter, he had blue eyes, not as blue as Louis' though. Where Louis' eyes were warm and constantly clouded by a storm, Niall's were cold and clear, he seemed genuine and outgoing, calm and collected. He talked fast, he laughed hard and loud, it was a booming sound that made me flinch and curl my lips in an annoying grin.

I needed to be alone, I needed to rest and try to work on what was wrong with myself. I needed to collect myself before meeting my therapist, I did not want their pity and I did not want to appear miserable. I was, I was aware of that, but I did not want to look like it. I did not need to be pitied, I did not need to be commiserated. I needed help so that I could get out of there and go back to university.

I wondered what was going to happen to me. I was pretty sure I had gotten pulled out of university, perhaps I had been put "on hold". I was a failure. I was a failure and I had no purpose in life. I was going to be a mess for the rest of my days, I was going to fight with my non-existent addiction forever. I did not deserve to be alive. It was better if I had died, if I had actually overdosed. There was nothing left for me, there was nothing on Earth for me anymore. I was not going to find pleasure in life anymore, I was not going to find amusement in certain events, I was not going to enjoy all the small things that life provided. I was not going to be a good son anymore, I was not going to be a lovely brother anymore, I was not going to be a caring boyfriend anymore.

I had nothing left. Nothing.

The first few days were tough, I was going crazy inside that villa, inside my room. I spent the first two nights awake, sweating and in pain, my limbs seemed on fire and my nerves kept on twitching while my fingers shake and trembled. I could not stand, my legs did not support me. I could not think either, my mind was too fuzzy, too clouded, too slow. My head always hurt and I had troubles breathing properly. I could not sleep either, I was being tormented by nightmares, my memories - I was not sure if they were memories - about what I had, what I had not done, too.

Niall stayed by my side during the day, he kept me company, he talked and chatted, he tried to keep me focused on other things and not on the cravings I was feeling bubbling up in my stomach. I was having issues with focusing on my surroundings, I was too busy obsessing over the fact that I needed a dose, I desperately needed to get high and I cried one afternoon. I cried when I realized that I was confined to a rehab centre, alone, scared. There was only me and my withdrawal.

I wanted to get out of the room, I wanted to go outside and enjoy some activities, however, I was too tired, I could not even reach the canteen without collapsing to the floor, my vision filled with spots of light and my breath laboured and hard. I was a mess, I was struggling and I was tired of the pain, of the fatigue, of the anxiety I felt run through my body, of the need of getting high. I knew why Niall was always by my side, I knew why I was not allowed to wear shoes with laces, to use real cutlery or to shave. I knew. I knew and I felt like a kid again.

I was not going to kill myself. However, I did think about it. When the cravings got too intense, when the restlessness and the pain in joints got too much, I did think about ending it all. I could not, I could not disappoint my loved ones again. I had promised them to see them in two weeks, I needed to stay strong, I needed to shift my attention away from what my mind played in my brain over, and over again.

There was an only positive note, I got my hunger back. It was going to take me a lot of time, I had to work hard on it, but I was slowly going back to a fuller and healthier looking form. I could see it in the mirror and I was happy about it, I did not look sick anymore. I wondered if Louis was going to like me again. I knew that when we had tried to have sex, he had been disgusted by how I looked, he had touched me differently, he had been too gentle and too delicate, I knew he had been scared of hurting me. I wondered what he had thought about.

Therapy was not fun. It happened every day, in a meeting with the other residents of the villa. We had to follow a twelve-step program, which involved God and religion, too. I was agnostic, but I did not feel like ruining the experience for the other residents, they needed it more than me. We faced one step every two or three days, it took me a while to get into the loop of it but, after my third day there, I understood why therapy and rehab were important to addicts.

"Harry?" I raised my head and looked at the counsellor. He was an old man, his hair was grey yet he looked fit, healthy, stable. "It's your turn." I frowned and cleared my throat.

"I- uhm..." I licked my lower lip and rubbed my hands together. I could do it. "I- I admit I'm powerless over co- my addiction and that my life has become unmanageable."

"Do you believe in what you have just said?" He asked gently, he reminded me of my dad sometimes. "Or you said it because I asked you to?"

"I do believe in it." I was not lying, I knew I was powerless, I knew I had caused pain to my loved ones because I had succumbed to cocaine. I was not an addict, though. I was not. "I do."

"How do you feel?"

"Normal. I guess. I don't know. I'm tired and I want to sleep, but if I close my eyes I keep thinking about how I felt when I was high and the cravings come back. And I sweat a lot." I rambled, a hand over my eyes and the other on my stomach, which was turning on itself. "I don't know what to do."

"There's nothing we can do, rehab means that you have to deal with withdrawal and the pain." I wanted to scoff. "It'll be okay, I've been there."

So he was an ex-addict. Fascinating. "I hope so. I just want to see my mum and my dad, my sister, my boyfriend. I miss them but I know I'm doing a good thing here."

"You are. Are you scared of facing the next steps?"

"Yeah, a little. I'm scared of disappointing people around me." I had never said that out loud, I had never admitted what I truly thought to someone before. "I mean, I started using... coke, cocaine, because I wanted to be someone and be successful."

"Did it make you successful?" I shook my head. "Sometimes our mind plays a trick on us, it's difficult to understand what's good from what's bad, we always think we're doing the right thing, but finding refuge in drugs and alcohol is never the answer. We might feel powerful for a few minutes, a few hours, but in the long run, that feeling of power, of satisfaction, is going to fade away and we'll be a shell of ourselves."

I knew he was right, I only had to accept it and keep it in mind, I was tired of causing troubles.

The first week passed slowly, I was busy in the garden with Eric, the gardener, he taught me how to plant flowers and how to take care of fruit trees. They had an orchard at the villa and Eric invited me to help him out in the morning, it would keep me busy and productive, which was something I had not been in a long time. Eric was gentle, he was a big guy who always wore straw hats and overalls, he was as old as my dad and he was a good bloke, he had been at the villa since his rehab journey and he had never left.

I planted eggplants on New Year's Eve. We did a small celebration at the villa, a small gathering with all the patients, nurses, doctors and volunteers, we had a lot of fun and we hugged at midnight, wishing one another a happy new year. I wondered how my family had spent the night, I wondered if they were still in Whitby or if they had left and moved back to Holmes Chapel. I wondered where Louis was, if he was out with his mates, with his family, or if he was alone. I did not want him to be alone, I did not want him to isolate himself and disappear. I knew I had hurt him and I knew I had never truly apologized either, however, I wanted the best for him.

I was still dealing with chest pains, runny nose and restlessness, but it was slowly getting better, I was not nauseous anymore, which made me feel better and a little stronger, too; perhaps the fact that I was eating three meals a day helped, too. Group therapy was starting to become useful to me, I was starting to look forward to that, I could talk there without being judged. I listened to everyone's story, I tried to understand how we got there, but I did not want to pry too much. There were some patients that seemed completely out of it, their condition was worse than mine, and I wanted to know why, but I knew better than asking them what they had gone through.

The second step did not sit right with me, I did not know if God existed or not, I was not a highly religious person, but I knew that there might be something, someone, out there. The second step required for me to believe that a "higher power" was capable of restoring me to a healthy state of mind. I was not sure of that, but I wanted to try anyway. I had to try, I had to convince myself that whatever or whoever was out there, it could help me get better. It did not have to be faith, it did not have to be religion, it could be whatever I believed in and I wanted to try, I wanted to get better and I had to.

I could trust destiny, I could trust love, I could trust my gut feeling, I could trust anything I wanted to. It was going to be okay, I had to work for it but it was going to be okay. I needed it to be okay, I did not want to be miserable anymore. I wanted to get back on my feet and be happier, healthier. I wanted to be my old self again, however, I had to improve who I had used to be, I could not make the same mistakes twice. I could not afford it, I could not pretend to not see what I had done to myself and to other people.

The third step was to make the decision of turning my life and will over to the care of this higher power, while the fourth step required me to take an inventory, a fearless one, about my life. It was scary, the fourth step petrified me and I did not know how to deal with it, I did not know how to take care of myself without crumbling. I had to admit what I had done out loud, I had to tell other people what I had done to myself and I had to do it without remorse, without thinking that I could be judged. I was still scared of it, I was still scared of having someone's eyes on me. No one ever said a bad thing about me, no one ever made a snarky remark about what I had gone through, yet I still thought that they were going to hate me.

"Harry, it's your turn." The guy standing next to me, Martin, nudged me on the knee and I looked at him before nodding quietly.

"I know where I fucked up." I murmured, I did not look up from the ground. "I know why I did it and I know where things crumbled down. I know what I could have done, I know what I... I missed." Everyone around me nodded. "I'm nineteen now, I've spent eighteen years of my life hating my family, hating myself and what I had around me. I had always been loved and taken care of, my parents and my sister have always been good to me but I refused to acknowledge it, I preferred to live into a lie. Everyone thought I was happy because I pretended to be, I played a part. I failed miserably when I got to university. You know, I met my boyfriend when I was seventeen and I hated him at first, I'm pretty sure he hated me, too. We didn't get along until after I understood that he was not an asshole, he was just a caring person who was way too good at reading me." I looked around and cleared my throat. "Louis got me. We've been together since Summer, it's almost seven months now. I had never pretended to be someone else around him. But then university started, I felt pressured to be the best student, I felt pressured to keep my family happy and I failed. I... I started using cocaine because it made me feel important and powerful. I now know that it was a fictitious feeling."

"Do you regret it?"

"More than anything. I just- just can't stop thinking about it. I know it's bad, I know I don't need it and I know that cocaine won't solve a thing, but I want it, I crave it every day and I can't shake this feeling away, I can't... can't stop thinking about it. From when I wake up to when I go to bed, it's always in my mind. Always. The fatigue, the anxiety, the feeling of emptiness that's in my stomach, I know it's just withdrawal symptoms, but sometimes they feel like too much." I said quietly, I could not cry, I could not cry.

"Do you want to succeed, Harry? Do you want to get rid of your addiction?" I nodded, quiet, eyes unfocused and already watery. "Then this is the only important thing, we don't need to worry about the past, if we do that, we'll just keep on falling back into our addiction, we have to focus on the future and on what we want to achieve." We all nodded, our counsellor had a way with words that made me trust him. "Do you miss your family and your boyfriend?"

"Yes, every day. I fucked up with them and me... I ruined what they had, Louis is a family friend and he was pretty close with my sister, but he blames himself and he has- has pushed everyone away. I feel guilty." I rubbed my eyes and sniffed. "I'd like to tell him it's not his fault."

I spent the rest of our session sitting in silence, I had my arms wrapped around myself and I wondered when things were going to get better when I would finally get my shit together. I did not want to stay tied up in my past.

I asked for a haircut the following day, we had a barber at the villa almost every day, we were not allowed to keep blades around and some of the guys who stayed there wanted to shave almost every day. He was a volunteer, and he seemed happy when I asked him to shave me and cut my hair short. I had allowed it to grow past my shoulders, I had never had the chance to see if Louis liked it long, if it could bring something new and interesting into the bedroom, we had never had the chance. However, it was time for me to move on.

I had learnt from my mum that changing your hairstyle was the first step, she always dyed her hair or cut after a stressful or sad event. I asked for a short cut, something that could allow me to work in the garden without sweating and without finding curls all over my face. He cut it very short at the sides, he almost gave me a buzzcut there, and he styled my quiff up. After he was done, I could not recognize myself, I looked like an adult, like someone who had his life together and figured out.

I knew, at that moment I knew I could do it. 


	9. 19,28

The two weeks passed slowly. We reached the fifth step when I heard that I could meet and see my family again. I had to admit to myself and to other the wrongdoings that happened because of my addiction. In those two weeks, I managed to start calling it for what it was: an addiction. I had lied to myself for months, I had pretended to be okay, to be the one in charge, but I had never been the one with the reigns. I had never controlled a thing, I had always been under the influence of cocaine. I was starting to realize it now.

It was not beautiful, it was not something that filled me with joy. I cried when I admitted the truth, I spoke those words out loud to the people in my sessions. I said I was an addict, I said I was controlled by drugs, it hurt, I felt like I was going to crush under the weight of that admission. I did not. I cried and broke down in front of everyone and I did not feel shame, I was relieved, I was happy to see that I could now face a portion of the truth without feeling ashamed of myself, without feeling like a failure.

I had been used, I had been exploited and I had made a fool of myself. I had shut everyone out of my life because I had chosen to believe a lie, I had chosen the ephemeral sensation that made me think I was a god. I was a mere mortal, I was nothing, just a speck of dust in the universe. I had to accept it, I had to accept what I really was and it hurt. I was nothing special and there was nothing wrong with that, no one was special. No one. We were not gifted kids, we were not powerful beings, we were just people. We could be successful and rich, but we were not special, we were equal.

I was doing better even if my life was harder than before, my lows were not as bad as before and I was in charge of my cravings. When they appeared - because they were still there, in the back of my mind - I made myself useful around the villa. I took care of the orchard, of the garden; I baked, I cooked and cleaned. I helped Niall and played golf with him, we talked and we opened up. I did not hide in my room anymore. Those two weeks there had been tough but they had been worth it, I did not regret being at the rehab centre. I was glad about the decision my family and Louis made for me.

I saw them on a rather cold morning in February. I had spent my birthday in the villa alone, Niall baked me a pretty ugly cake, but the taste was amazing and I felt normal, I felt functional. I was two weeks sober when Louis' Mini stopped in the parking lot, I was two weeks sober and nineteen. I did not feel like a new person yet, but I felt in charge of my life, at least partially; it was better than nothing in my opinion. I hoped they could think that, too.

That day was important to me: I had to admit the truth to them. I could do it, I did not want to hide again, I did not want to keep them out of my life.

I watched my mum, my dad, Gemma and Louis get out of his car from my bedroom window. I was still in my room, I knew it would take them a few more minutes before they could see me, they had to get checked before entering the villa. It was for our safety. I understood it, I had heard from Niall that, a few years before, someone had smuggled few grams of heroin in the villa for a loved one and since then, anyone who entered the ground of the rehab centre had to get checked and searched. I highly doubt my parents would ever buy cocaine, Gemma despised it and Louis was too scared to get caught to do it.

I was safe with them.

I heard Niall announce their presence, I pushed a hand through my hair and walked out of my room. I had put on my best clothes, I had showered and put some perfume on - it was the one Louis had gifted to me a year before. For my birthday. I still had it.

"Oh, dear!" My mum was smiling, she looked tired and proved by life, but I could see a spark of joy in her eyes. "You cut your hair, you're handsome, love." She hugged me tight and I did the same, she smelled like home.

My dad hugged me, too. He was solid, firm, under my touch. "You look good." He said while squeezing my shoulders with his hands. I had never truly seen him, but I could see a piece of myself in him.

Gemma looked at me, she was still mad but she seemed okay, now. She did not hug me, she only smiled at me and nodded in my direction. I got it, she needed time and I wanted to give it to her, I could not think that in two weeks everything could go back to normal. She held grudges, she had always done that, and I had let her down, I was not expecting to be forgiven so easily, I knew I had to work for it, I knew we had to talk about it, too.

Louis had shaved recently, yet he still had a faint trace of his beard on his face. His eyes were sunken, he looked exhausted and I could tell that he had not slept properly in a long time. I felt guilty again, I felt like a traitor. He did not deserve to be hurt, I had betrayed his trust, our relationship. I had jeopardized everything with my actions. I hoped he could forgive me.

"Hey." I was nervous, he was too.

"Hi, Harry." He hugged me and I held him tight, I tried to get into him, to get under his skin and under his clothes. I had missed him, I had missed him so much. I loved him, I loved him. "You look great, I like the new haircut." He was still tiptoeing around me, his voice was still soft and tired. He was tender under my touch.

"I put on three kilos over two weeks, and I've started to look after myself." I wanted to kiss him, but I was not sure we were there yet. I wanted to, but I knew I had mined our relationship way too much. It was not up to me, not yet. I still had to be forgiven first. "I missed you so much," I whispered in his ear. "You never wrote to me."

"I wanted to, but they told me not to."

I believed him. "You can now, though."

"I can. I can also visit you."

I pulled back from the hug and looked at him in the eyes, they were still the same. Did he still like me or was I just a shell of a human being for him, now?

"Will you visit me?" He nodded and I felt his thumb brush my neck. "I'll wait for you."

We went into my room, I had to leave the door open and Niall was sitting outside in the hallway, close to us. I was not scared, I did not feel watched by him, I trusted him and I trusted my family, I knew nothing bad would happen to me if they were there. It was my moment to talk now, I had to tell them the truth and I had to do it without double takes, I had to be direct, concise and effective, I could not dance around the topic for too long.

I waited for them to sit down, Gemma was standing next to the window while my dad and mum sat on two chairs that Niall had brought up from the canteen; Louis sat on the bed, close to me but not too close. I could tell that he had not talked to my parents yet, to Gemma. He had isolated himself in his house, he had cut everyone out and he had pretended to not know the truth behind his actions. I knew him now, I knew how he acted when he felt remorse, guilt. It was up to me now, I had to be the one to put them all back into one piece. After all, I had broken them, shattered them, with my actions.

"In these two weeks here I did a lot of work. I've planted a lot of vegetables, mum, and a lot of flowers, too. Niall has taught me how to play golf." My dad smiled and I chuckled, he had tried to teach me how to play for years, but I had always refused. "I had therapy every day, right after lunch. We're five steps in and it feels okay, I feel better. I gotta get better, but I'm working on it." I sighed and rubbed my eyes. "I know we don't talk about it and I know you refuse to believe me but I have to tell you that... that I know." It was harder than I thought, but there was no going back now. "I am an addict and I am two weeks sober." I was torturing my hands, I had never thought that talking could be this hard. "I- I renounce what I have done in the past."

No one talked. Louis looked at me with his eyes wide open, my mum had her lips slightly parted, my dad was emotionless and Gemma seemed confused.

"I am an addict, I've made a lot of mistakes in the past, I've let cocaine play with me and I ended up being a tool. I know that what I've done is unforgivable, I know that I've been a shitty son, a shitty brother and a shitty boyfriend. I apologize for it." I could not breathe, it was too difficult. "I am sorry for thinking that you were bad parents, I am sorry for thinking that you wouldn't accept me. I've had this fake picture of you in my head that has driven me insane. I was so scared of letting you down, I didn't want to not be enough, I didn't want to be a bad son. I wanted to make you proud and I wanted you to be happy, dad. That's why I chose law, that's why I never came out. I didn't want to disappoint you, mum." It was hard, but I could not stop talking. "I'm sorry I never told you anything about myself, I'm sorry I stopped being the younger brother you've always had. I treated you like a side character since I was... fourteen? Maybe fifteen, I don't know anymore. But you've always been there for me, you've always covered my arse with them when I did something stupid and I paid you back by ending up being an addict. I'm sorry Gemma. You've never done anything to hurt me, you've always looked after me. You've always been my older sister even when I was an arsehole."

I still had so much more to tell them, however, it was not the right time, we had to take one step at a time. I had to take one step at a time, day by day.

"Lou... I-I- you need to stop thinking that it's your fault. It's not. I've been the one who had fucked up. You didn't make me overdose, you didn't push me towards drugs, you've loved me and cherished me since July. You've shown me love and affection, I've never wanted to let you down but I have, and it hurts. I'm sorry for pushing you away, I'm sorry for hiding from you and I'm sorry for making you think that you're not enough, for calling you names. I've lashed out to you so many times over these past few months, I've gotten angry at you without a reason and I've been a bad boyfriend since I've moved to Manchester. I've never wanted to hurt you like this, I've never wanted to make you feel like a bad person." I sighed and stared at the duvet. "I know what I've done to you. I'm sorry for getting high in your bathroom, I'm sorry for making you cry and I'm sorry for... for making you see me passed out in my own vomit. You didn't deserve it. You've never deserved it. You've been nothing but kind to me, you're... I don't want to make you think that it's your fault. It's not."

We stayed quiet for a few minutes. I did not know what my parents were thinking about, I did not know what was going on in their minds. I did not know how the felt. I could only hope for the best, I could only hope for them to accept my apology and see that I meant that, that I wanted to start over and be a decent person. They deserved a good son, they deserved a functional family and I did not want to fight anymore, I just wanted to be good and help them where I could. I wanted to be useful but in the right and correct way. I wanted to start over and I wondered if they wanted it, too.

Gemma did not speak either, she did not look at me, she stayed quiet with her hands clasped together. She was rigid, she was stiff, I did not know what was going on in her head, but I did know that she had heard me, that she had comprehended what I had just said. I hoped she could forgive me, I hoped she could see that I was not a bad person. I _had been_ a bad person, but I wanted to get better and make her proud again. I wanted to be a little brother again, perhaps for the first time in my life, I wanted to be the obnoxious younger brother that she had not fully experienced.

Louis was still sitting next to me, he had his lips pursed and his eyes a little glossy. I wondered if he knew what I was apologizing for, I wondered if he had heard what I was letting unsaid. I did not want him to feel bad, to feel wrong or out of place. He belonged to my family, he belonged with my parents, with my sister, with me. I did not want him to cut ties with them, I did not want him to run away from them, to blame himself like he had been doing. There was nothing wrong with him, he had been a wonderful person and I knew that it was not his fault I ended up with an addiction.

"You saw us as someone who wouldn't accept you?" My mum's voice was unsure, low, barely audible. I felt like shit. "We made you think we wouldn't accept you."

"It's not your fault, mum. You've never been bad to me, you've always loved me. Always. I've just realized it, but I know you've always been supportive of me." I sighed and looked at my hands, I had never felt so ashamed. "You've always been good to me."

"We're sorry for making you feel pressured. We've always wanted what we thought could be the best for you, we've never- never imagined it was hurting you." My dad had never apologized to me before, however that apology felt wrong, out of place, it was not their duty to apologise. They had never done anything bad. "We didn't mean to do this to you."

"No. No. It's not your fault, it's not, it's mine, dad, _mine_." I sighed and rubbed my eyes tiredly, it was tougher than I could expect. "I'm the one who misread you, I'm the one who painted you as these evil creatures who wouldn't let me be myself. In reality, you've always allowed me to be myself, I was the one who was not ready to face the truth. _I_ have chosen to not be myself."

"Then why did you do it?"

I looked at Gemma, she had a point. "Because I wanted..." Wanted what? I still did not understand why I had done that, I could not lie to them. "I don't know. I don't know. I guess I just wanted to be this special kid, I'm not sure, Gemma. It could've been envy, it could've been anything else. I don't know."

"Why did you start using cocaine?" She pressed forward.

"Because I wanted to be at the top. I wanted to be the best student in my course. I tried Adderal, too, but it didn't do shit. So this... guy, he offered me a line at a party and I couldn't say no. I took some, I went back to my room and I- I studied, I studied a lot that night and I felt good, I felt so powerful, Gemma, it was a kind of power and feeling that I've never experienced before. I got hooked there, I wanted to feel special." Louis shuddered beside me, he turned his head to the side and I looked at him, worried. "I- I attacked this guy one day, I was coming down harder than ever and he was scamming me, he was selling me less than before but at the same price. I went to his place and I attacked him."

"Is that when you told me I should be proud of you?" Louis murmured, staring at the wall in front of him. "You wanted me to be proud of you for beating a kid? Is that what you were saying, Harry?"

"I don't remember, but probably."

"And when you didn't want me to visit, it was because you were high." I nodded. "I didn't notice it. I didn't notice a thing."

"It's not your fault, Lou." I dared to rest a hand on his, holding it tightly. "No one noticed a thing, not even Zayn and we shared a room. It's not your fault."

Louis looked at my hand, he brushed his thumb over mine and he held it a little tighter. "It is my fault, though. I should've kept an eye on you. I should've noticed that you were not doing good." I sighed and shook my head. "I'm sorry."

He did not say that to me, he said that to my parents. I felt pain, I felt shame and disgust. How could he not understand? How could he not see that it was not his fault? How? I had told him the truth, I had told him what was really going on with me, yet he refused to listen, he refused to absolve himself from a crime he had not committed. It was baffling and it was painful, Louis was stubborn and I knew that, but I had imagined that he could see the truth. The fact that he could be projecting his feeling of guilt onto this did not cross my mind, I did not realize that he was apologizing for not looking after me, for not being there for me, for not taking care of me, for letting my parents down and for being with me.

He was apologizing for our relationship.

I did not know what to tell him, I stayed quiet and I stared at him, I stared at my parents and I watched their faces crumble under the same realization. It was not right, it was not fair, we were supposed to be working on our relationship together, to be happier now that I was in rehab. He was not supposed to apologize for being with me, he was not supposed to be so far away from me, he was not supposed to leave me. I was getting scared, I was nervous, I did not want to leave him and I did not want to break up with him either.

"It wasn't your fault, Louis." My mum's voice was gentle, she stood up and walked toward him, resting a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it. "No one could've prevented this. Harry's stubborn, when he wants something, he gets it."

"I should have noticed it anyway. When- when he didn't want me to visit, when he didn't want to see me or when he got angry, I should've noticed." My dad shook his head and glanced at me before looking at Louis. "I don't know how you can ever look at me right now."

"It's not your fault, Louis, it has never been your fault." Gemma glared at me and sat down on the bed, close to him so that she could hug him. "We're not mad at you."

It was unbelievable. I had planned that day in order to beg for forgiveness and be forgiven by the people I loved the most, however, everything had turned around and now, only now, I could see the damage I had done with my actions. I felt sorrow and pain, I could see and feel what I had to everyone around me, I had a long road in front of me. Even if cocaine had left my body on the third day, the cravings were still there, I was still struggling mentally and now emotionally. I needed my family, I needed my boyfriend, but I knew I had to give them time.

After apologizing to my loved one, I had to admit my defects to a higher power, to God. I struggled with that step, I was not a strong believer but I believed in a spiritual being, I believed there might be something or someone around us, above us. I had to admit what a fuck-up I was out loud, it was hard and I did not like how easily it rolled out of my tongue, it made me shiver and think about far I had come after just three weeks of being at the centre. I had been there for three weeks and I was starting to get used to living there, I was used to helping around and be useful: I took care of the orchard and of the golf course with Niall; I was getting good at trimming the grass.

I did not know if I could ever stop frequenting the centre, I was growing fond of everyone around me and I was starting to get comfortable, I liked it there. I did not have the time to dwell on what I felt inside, I did not have the time to sulk over what I had done for too long. I had a job to do, I had to cook and bake, water the plans and go to therapy. Only there, I could talk about my issues and about my cravings, everyone around me was supportive and they always shared their own feelings so that we could never feel lonely or misunderstood.

It was a little family, dysfunctional, but a family.

The seventh step was even more confusing than the sixth one. I had to face God and ask him to take care of my shortcomings. In order to do that, I had to pray. I had not prayed in years, I was not practising religion and I did not even believe, I was not sure of what I was supposed to do. However, Niall told me to just talk, to just open up and address someone, anyone, I believed in and ask Them to take care of me and guide me. I did not need to be babied, I needed to be guided and I had to accept it.

Niall showed me the chapel. I did not know we had one, I had never noticed it. It was situated behind the villa, I had always assumed it was a random building with no meaning, but I had been wrong, it was a tiny chapel with an altar and pews where you could kneel and pray. Everything smelled like wood and old books, it was cold inside and the paintings that hung from the walls represented scenes from the Bible and other religious anecdotes I had never seen before; I was sure my mum knew all of them. I liked the place, it was peaceful and it calmed my spirit, it calmed my mind somehow. It was a breath of fresh air.

I knelt down on a kneeler and stared at the cross behind the altar, it was made of metal - it looked like gold mixed with silver but I was not sure - and there where stones engraved in it. I looked at the cross again and then at the pews in front of me, I was alone, I was all alone and I did not know what to do. I had not prayed in a long time, I did not even know what I was supposed to do anymore. Did I have to talk? Did I have to let my thoughts out and not care? I did not know, but I had to try and do something, I could not fail that step.

"So..." I sighed and I rubbed my hands together, confused and lost. "I don't have to introduce myself, I guess. If- if you're real, then you know I had fucked up. I had told my mum, my dad, my sister and my boyfriend that I made mistakes. I wanted to make amends for what I had done, but I... I don't know if it was enough. I have admitted that I was a sh- a bad son, a bad brother and a bad boyfriend, but it wasn't enough." I found that talking was starting to get easier. "My sister is still pissed at me because I hurt her a lot, I think things just escalated. I hadn't... I haven't been able to be a proper child, a proper brother, I've spent years hating everyone and then I started doing cocaine and everything went up in the air. I don't know what I have to do, I don't how to make it up to my parents, I don't want to make them feel bad about me forever." I rubbed my eyes tiredly and sat back, my knees were hurting. "I fucked everything up, everything. I ruined my family, I ruined my relationship, I don't know why... why I didn't stop sooner. I never wanted to be a bad person, I don't want to make my family feel like they have to keep on looking after me." I sighed and rubbed my eyes, I did not know why I was talking so easily, I just felt lighter there. "I want to be normal again, I want to be okay again and I can't do it alone, I can't. I like being here, it helps me and- and I hope you could help, too?"

I stayed in the chapel until dinner time, I spoke out loud and I confessed my mistakes. It was freeing, I felt better after opening up and talking about what was in my head. I got caught up in the praying, I did not even notice Niall walking into the chapel. He was there to collect me, they thought something had happened to me since I had spent two hours in the chapel. I had not noticed it, perhaps I had been too caught up in my own little world. I felt at peace, I felt better knowing that I could always vent to someone. Even if I did not believe in God, I knew that I could talk to someone, or at least pretend to talk to someone.

I had dinner and then went to bed. I was excited about what was about to come. I wanted to see my family again and I wanted to face the next steps. My head was now clear, it was okay, I knew what I had done wrong and I knew what I needed to do in order to be forgiven and accepted by my family and by Louis. I wanted to see them again, I missed them every day, however, I had to give them time, I had to respect their wishes and be better, I had to do better on my own before being able to be around them how I wanted to.

Louis was always in my mind, always. I wanted to fall asleep in his arms again, I wanted to kiss him every morning as soon as I woke up, I wanted to drink his disgusting tea in the afternoon and eat crumpets with him while watching a film. I wanted to listen to him read a book to me, I missed his voice and I missed how good he made me feel whenever he ran his fingers through my head. I wanted to be with him again, I did not want to let him slip away and suffer, he did not deserve it. Louis and I could still be something, we still could have a relationship if he wanted to.

I loved him, I loved him and I wanted to tell him as soon as possible. I promised myself that after my first month of sobriety, I would tell him and I would ask him for forgiveness once again. I needed to make him understand that it was not his fault, it was going to be tough though, it was going to take time and a lot of healing. He was as stubborn as me, I knew he had made himself believe that it was his fault, that I started to get high because he lacked in giving me something, anything. It was not the truth, it was not his fault I had ruined myself.

I was the stupid one.

I also missed writing. I missed venting to no one but myself, I missed being creative but I knew that I could not rush thing, I could not force myself to write something when I was scared of facing the truth. I still knew what I had done, I knew what I had missed and what I had caused to myself, however, I could not write down the truth, I could not write down what was going through my head. Not yet at least, it was too soon, the wounds were still too fresh and I did not know what to do.

I still had my journal with me, it had not been touched since I came back from university, I could not open it. I knew that if I did, if I looked into it and read what I had written, I would relapse. I had described in detail how I felt after getting high, I described what I thought, saw and experienced when high; I never talked about the hours after the effects of cocaine went away. I never wrote about it because it was not something I was comfortable talking about, it was humiliating to see myself collapse under the weight of the need for another dose.

In those pages, I ranted about what was on my mind when high, I knew that if I read those words again I would feel the need of getting cocaine back in my system. I did not want to relapse, I did not want to lose all the progress I had achieved in three weeks. I was almost a full month sober, I could not waste all the progress I had made. I could not do that to myself, I could not ruin and lose everything again.

The eight-step required me to make a list of the people I had hurt with my actions, I had to become willing to make amends and apologize. My list was short, it was not long but it meant a lot to me, I had hurt everyone I cared about and I was still not over it. I was sure that the shame and the pain of seeing my loved ones sad and lost would never go away, I was probably going to live with it forever. I had to make amend and I had to face the harsh reality once again. I had already apologized but it was different now.

The first one on my list was my mum. I wrote down her name, I wrote down why I had to make amends and my therapist was satisfied with what I had written down. I needed to talk to her in private, without anyone there, and confess everything, I had to tell her the truth and what I feared the most in life. I was still scared, I was terrified of facing the truth but I could do it, I had to do it since I needed to fix my relationship with her.

The second person on the list was my dad. I had never really talked to him but it was time for me to start, I had to sit down with him and tell him why I had started to use cocaine, I had to tell him what had gone through my head and why I felt so inclined to do so. I needed him to understand that it was not his fault, I needed to make him see that I could be a good kid again. I was tired of seeing him as a "bad guy", he had always been sweet and gentle with me.

The third name was Gemma's. I was petrified by the idea of talking to her, I did not even know what to tell her, I did not know how to approach her without making her mad. She was still pissed off at me and she had a good reason for that, I did not know what I was supposed to do. I wanted to tell her the truth, I wanted to come undone in front of her eyes and make her see that I was sorry for what I had done. I was sorry, I was mortified. I could only hope she could see that I was being honest with her.

Louis was next. If Gemma made me nervous, he made me anxious. I did not know how to tell him that my addiction was not his burden, he did not have to carry it on his back and take care of me. It was not his duty. I needed to tell him that he was okay, that I was okay, I did not want him to get lost into his own head and guilt. He had nothing on his hands, nothing. He had never hurt me, he had never made me feel the need to use cocaine. I had been the one who had decided to get high, not him. He did not push me toward it, he did not have to look after me because I was not a baby. It was not on him.

The last name was Zayn's. He was my friend, he was my roommate and I had disappointed him. I knew I had left him down, too, I could not face him again without coming clean to him. He had never suspected a thing, he had never asked me what I was doing, he had allowed me to make my own mistakes and I knew, I knew he only wanted me to be honest with him. Zayn deserved an explanation and he deserved to know who he had in his room, I understood that it could end poorly for me, I understood that he could end up asking to be transferred. I had treated him poorly over those past months, I had treated him like background noise and he did not deserve it. He deserved a good friend and even better roommate by his side.

The eight-step seemed easier than the ninth one. I had to leave the centre, I could leave. I had reached my first month of sobriety and I felt free, I felt older, happier. I knew what I had achieved something good in my life, I knew I had managed to stay sober and lucid for a whole month. It was refreshing, it was comforting. I could leave now, I could leave the centre and go back to my normal life. Expect, it was not going to be normal at all. I did not want to get out of the centre, I wanted to go home but I did not want to get transferred to another rehab place. I was happy there.

I wanted to go home, though, I missed living with those I loved and I did not even care if I was going to stay at Louis' place, at my parent' house or back in my dorm. I highly doubted that I was going to live in Holmes Chapel, it was too far from the centre and my university was pretty far away, too. The only logical option was for me to go and live with Louis. I hoped he could take me in, but I had a good feeling about it.

He had come to visit me at the weekend, alone. My family was back in Holmes Chapel and I was happy to see that everything was slowly going back to normal, everyone was starting to live again. Everyone but Louis, as I suspected. I took him for a walk in the orchard and we stopped by the golf court to greet Niall, who had grown fond of Louis and they were starting to become really good friends. I wondered when they had time to talk, but perhaps one of the two had found the other's profile on Instagram or Facebook.

Louis and I walked around, hand in hand, I showed him my favourite flowers and my favourite new vegetables that I had planted. It felt normal, it felt ordinary and it was what I needed and wanted, I craved a basic and calm life, I could not face another hectic and fast-paced period. Louis told me he had given his book to the publishers and it was being edited and adjusted; he did not sound happy nor excited. I had sucked all of his life out of him, I had made him collapse on himself and I felt remorse, I felt guilt. I needed to apologize to him and make him regain his happiness.

I missed seeing his smile, I missed hearing his laugh.

I called Louis when I received my badge for my month of sobriety, I did not have my phone back yet, but they allowed me to use the centre's one. I wanted to send him a picture, I wanted to make him see that I had done it, that I was finally sober and that I had fought against my own demons. He sounds relieved, he sounded happy, too. I asked him to pick me up on the weekend and he agreed. I was going to live in the centre, I was going to get out of there.

The weekdays passed slowly, I almost did not want to leave, I liked my life there and I liked the people around me, especially Niall. I was going to miss him, I was going to miss spending my days pestering him and annoying him with my questions and complaints. Niall was a friend, he was not "just a nurse". We had become friends, we had found that we shared a lot of interests and we had started to keep each other's company throughout the day. Niall helped me in the orchard and I helped him with the golf course and around the villa, we cooked together and he liked to eat what I baked without asking first.

I was nervous, I wondered if I was going to make it once I left the villa, I did not want to risk it, I did not want to relapse and I did not want to get back into that vicious circle. I was not going to survive if I did, I was not going to get past twenty-five.

"Ready for your big day?" Niall asked from the doorframe, he was resting his shoulder on it and I smiled at him. "You're going to get your phone back, too."

"I know." I closed the last bag and I sat down on the bed, looking at Niall with a small smile. "I'm a little nervous. I don't know what to do once I get out of here."

"Aren't you going to stay with your boyfriend? I'm sure you'll find something to do." We laughed and I shook my head, I was still not ready to be intimate with Louis. "You could create a vegetable garden, it could be fun."

"I think so, yeah, I want to get one anyway, I need to stay busy, you know?" Niall nodded and patted the bare desk. "Here I have the orchard, I get to pick apples all day and I have to stay focused on it. I have golf with you, I have baking and cooking. But in Whitby... I don't know."

"You can have the same things there, too, Harry. I'm sure Louis will absolutely love your aubergines."

I laughed and stood up, it was time for me to go. Louis was already downstair, I heard his car arrive. I looked out of the window, I glanced at my personal apple tree, at the chapel, at the golf course, no one was ever going to take those memories away from me. It was time for me to grown once again, it was time for me to reach a new step in my life and I needed to get out, I needed to face the real world, I could not allow myself to hide between the villa's walls forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is also published on [Wattpad](https://my.w.tt/piOMiVxaGab) where you can see how they're supposed to look throughout the story!


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